I did not sign up for this
by Louise24601
Summary: When Kellerman becomes part of the brothers' team, Sara has trouble tolerating her presence. But when anger and hate are morphed into desire, things get much more dangerous. WARNINGS: slurs, sexual situations, Ke/Sa, Mi/Sa
1. Chapter 1

**So, I'm trying to revise this story without rewriting it because I'd probably find I'm not into it anymore; anyway, just don't pay attention to the differences of writing between chapters :)**

Sara was sitting in her bedroom alone, her face buried in her hands. She was searching for the moment in her life where she had a choice of letting all these things happen to her.  
>Was it when she left that door open that her life had taken this deathly turn ? The expression "I did not sign up for this" crossed her mind.<br>"Hey," she heard Michael open the door.  
>She quickly wiped away any trace of tears, trying to hide that she had been crying.<br>"Hey," she said, "how's it going with Lan... Kellerman ?"  
>"Hum," he sat next to her, "well not too bad, Lincoln doesn't really like his new roommate but..."<br>Sara didn't know whether or not it was humor but she really didn't feel like laughing.  
>"You know the second we don't need him anymore we..."<br>"Dump him, I know." She wondered if he really thought it made her feel better.  
>All these hours in that hotel room with Kellerman, Sara kept imagining Michael saving her and, in her mind, if he had saved her, it sure as hell wouldn't have been to work with her torturer a few days later.<br>Michael could feel loud and clear that he wasn't making her feel any better. He would have wanted to be able to show her how much he wanted to kill that bastard, unfortunately he couldn't, not just yet. Not while they still needed him.  
>"Could you just..." Sara's voice was soft and kind, though impossibly clear. "I just need to be alone right now."<br>Her voice slightly broke on her last word. Michael couldn't ease the pain, nothing could. She had trusted the wrong person, again, a man whom she trusted, who was kind to her. Before he abducted her and tortured her. A chill ran over her body when she thought of that day.  
>"Sure." Michael agreed. He couldn't help her, he knew it, he did... or was he just afraid to try ?<br>As he walked away, Sara couldn't help wondering if Michael was going to resent her for that one day. She wondered if he would see that she was too broken to fix, get scared and leave; she wondered if he'd say "I tried to help you, but you didn't want my help." She wonders if that will be his excuse when he'll really think "I'm sorry it happened to you, but I just can't deal with you right now".  
>She felt a tight knot form in her abdomen, she wanted to cry but she'd held her tears back so long earlier that it was now impossible.<br>She moved her feet on the bed and leaned against the wall before folding her legs and wrapping her arms around her knees. She felt like a child. She had never felt so helpless in her life.  
>She kept remembering that man forcing her head inside the bathtub while holding an iron next to her, making painful spasms running through all of her body, then that same man wiping the water and tears off her face, so gently that it could have looked like he cared... almost. But the worst wasn't the pain, the worst was the fear, the fear of being entirely powerless each time she heard that man's footstep in the bedroom getting closer, and each time she saw the door handle turn... she felt sick, nauseous, she wanted to disappear, she was almost starting to wish she was never born at all.<br>After he realized she wasn't going to talk, she remembered him moving her to the bedroom, where a fire burned in the chimney, then she remembered the fear that overwhelmed her when she saw him put the blade of a knife and left it here, he waited next to her until the blade was red orange, than put on a glove that'll prevent him to burn, than he took the knife...  
>Sara remembered feeling like she was going to pass out as he slowly whispered "<em>I'm sorry Sara<em>".  
>She closed her eyes, not wanting for one second to relive the moment where the knife cut through the skin of her back, her flesh cauterizing itself by the warmth of the blade. She got up so quickly it made her head spin, but she wasn't going to just stand there, powerless to her fate. Not again. She grabbed her jacket and, without telling a soul, left the motel room. She walked around, looking for a bar, she knew she would hate herself but it didn't matter to her right now, she finally spotted one, she walked toward it without thinking twice but couldn't help notice, "Mystic Grill", what a strange name for a bar...<p>

"Thank you." She said when the waiter gave her the drink.  
>He had blond hair and blue eyes, and didn't look much older than eighteen.<br>"Hey, hum..." the young waiter said probably noticing she wasn't feeling good, "I know it's none of my business, but, you' alright ?"  
>"Ecstatic." she didn't bother to sound credible.<br>"Alright then," he said as he walked away.  
><em>He didn't look like he bought it but he probably didn't wanna bother me<em>, she thought. _Or he doesn't care, nobody cares, if Michael doesn't care than that teenage waiter obviously doesn't care either_. Cause of all people, Sara thought Michael would be the one to care, that he would be the one to do everything he could to keep her away from that creep and not lead her right into his hands. But Michael didn't care about Kellerman, she thought, he didn't care about her. All he cared about was his brother as always.  
>Deep down, she knew it wasn't fair to think like that, but Michael had done nothing to prove her wrong.<br>"Hey... " she said to the young waiter who was passing by. "Could you get me tequila to go with that orange juice ?"  
>"Hum... sure."<br>It took a few minutes before he was back with her drink.  
>"Thanks," she said, "you can leave the bottle."<br>Sara poured herself a full shooter then stared at it. The easiest would be not to think about what she was doing, not to think about the years of recovery it took her when she quit... though all it took for her to dive back in was Michael Scofield.  
>She drank the shooter in only one sip.<br>"Hey look," the young waiter whose presence she'd almost forgotten spoke, "we kind of do a waiter/shrink deal around here, so, if you wanna talk..."  
>She tried to smile.<br>"You seem nice." She uttered.  
>"And you seem lost." He said with a nervous laugh. "I'm Matt."<br>It took her only half a second to realize that she should lie and a full second to think of a name.  
>"Roseanne," she said, taking her mother's name.<br>"It's a lovely name," he said.  
>"Yeah," she poured herself another drink. "It is."<p>

...

"Maybe you should talk to her," Lincoln suggested.  
>"I tried, she doesn't wanna talk."<br>A mocking laugh sounded in the room and there was no suspense concerning the source.  
>"You have a problem ?" Michael turned to Paul Kellerman, hoping he'd give him a reason to at least punching. And he'd be holding back by just punching him.<br>"Nope," he answered, "Just wondering whether you're sick of her already or just stupid."  
>Michael made a move toward him but Lincoln's strong arm stopped him.<br>"Your brother's right Michael," Paul said, annoying the young man even more. "You can't kill me." He turned away, as though the conversation was already boring him. "You need me and you know it."  
>"Nobody's indispensable." Michael said, smiling at the thought of what his sentence implied.<br>"All right," Paul spoke in feigned patience, as though he was talking to a child, "I apologize, I shouldn't have called you stupid, I don't think you are. Well, except to when it comes to women apparently. I just think you and Sara should..."  
>"Don't even mention her name."<br>Paul shook his head as Lincoln was stopping Michael from getting into what looked like a physical fight. _Idiots_, he thought, Michael looked like a regular teenager in love, wasn't that sweet ? Paul considered that right at this second, the only thing he disliked more than Michael Scofield was fighting with him. Arguing with Michael gave him the impression of two teenagers fighting over the same girl. A little too childish for Paul Kellerman. A lot too childish.  
>"Calm down Mike, he isn't worth it." He rephrased to have bigger impact on his brother. "Sara wouldn't want you to kill him."<br>A chill ran over Michael's body at the mention of his love; he couldn't even imagine Sara seeing him as a murderer.  
>"Yeah," Michael said, "about Sara, would you go check on her Linc?"<br>"And leave you two alone ?" Lincoln almost seemed to regret his sentence as Michael glared at him.  
>"If you want I can check on her," Paul interrupted their mental lecturing with a faint innocent smirk.<br>Michael's hands were fists immediately. How he would love to put that same fist in Kellerman's nose to get that grin off his face.  
>"We'll be fine don't worry," Michael said, his eyes never leaving Kellerman.<br>Lincoln hesitated, but complied.  
>"So," Kellerman said once the two were alone, "'s that the moment where you say 'the hell with it' and kill me anyway ?"<br>"Oh I wish."  
>"Would it help if I said I was sorry?"<br>Michael let out a joyless laugh. "Not even if you meant it."  
>Paul didn't add another word, he really was sorry, or at least what he considered remorse should be. He did care about Sara, and he never meant for her to be involved in all this. After all, it was Scofield who had involved her, wasn't it? He was starting to wonder if this wasn't all just a way to pass the blame; not that he minded really, it was probably easier for Sara to hate him rather than Scofield - he figured for her, he could take the blame, be the better man. Well, the less bad man. He owed her this much.<br>"Just stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours." Michael hissed, and Paul didn't have the time to retort before Lincoln crashed in the room.  
>He spoke three single words that made Michael's blood turn cold.<br>"She's gone, Mike."


	2. Chapter 2

Michael just stood there, frozen, his mouth wide open, clearly in state of shock.  
>"Did you hear me, Mike? She's gone!" Lincoln repeated.<br>"What do you mean _gone_?" Kellerman asked.  
>"What you think I mean," Lincoln answered before reporting his attention to Michael.<br>"She..." mumbled the younger brother before regaining control. He cleared his throat. "Did she leave anything to let us know where she was going? A note or -"  
>Linc shook no. "No, nothing man. I searched everywhere."<br>"Maybe I can help," Kellerman suggested, sincerely hoping that the brothers would let him, "I know how to find people, that's what I do, I could..."  
>"You've done enough," Michael interrupted him. This Paul Kellerman guy clearly had the gift to talk when he shouldn't and say nothing when he should talk. "This is all your fault." He stated the obvious; for all the good it would do.<br>"My fault ? Kellerman arched a brow. "If this is all _my_ fault than how come she didn't let _you_ know where she was going, huh?"  
>"Just shut up," Lincoln said without even bothering to look at him. "She can't be very far, Mike."<p>

...

"So," Matt said, and there was only a hint of awkwardness left in his voice. "What's your story Roseanne?"  
>"I..." Sara began pensively as she drained her glass once more, "I got involved with the wrong persons, I guess."<br>"And, hum..." the young waiter tried to guess, "now you're in trouble."  
>"Yeah, there's that," the young woman said, "but..." She stared at her empty drink for a while, trying not to think of the headache that she was starting to feel, like a nagging presence in the back of her mind. "You know," she went on, not entirely conscious of what she was saying. "It's like there's that moment in your life where you have to make all the important choices, and sacrifice people you love to save people you love even more, but then you realize that they don't care and you can't help but wonder what if..." She bit her bottom lip.<br>"What if you chose wrong?" Matt finished for her before lowering his kind blue eyes.  
>He was finding this Roseanne more and more curious, yet he did want to help her. She seemed perfectly nice, especially nicer when she wasn't drunk he reckoned, and she was beautiful in this rare kind of beauty, neither aggressive or harsh, just warm and sweet. A sweet girl, she was. She looked like she could have a real nice life going on for herself..<br>"You know," he told her, "sometimes we let ourselves get hurt because we think it's worth it, and then when getting hurt we start to question ourselves. But then it doesn't mean that it was the wrong choice, it just mean it was a hard one. That's something we often forget, that to get hurt for the right reason, even if it's for the best reason in the world, well - it still hurts."  
>"Hum..." Sara said trying to place her situation in Matt's sentence, "I think I drank too much to understand what you're saying."<br>He laughed, and the slight smile it drew on his lips was undeniably cute.  
>"It's okay," he said, "but I still think you should go home and get some sleep."<br>That did seem like an attractive option, she had to admit. She had a hard time even remembering what she was so upset about earlier. What she did recall though was that not to remember it was exactly what she wanted when she'd entered that bar.  
>"Yeah," she said, "yeah I'm gonna go home."<br>She paid for the drinks and got up a bit too fast, falling straight back on her seat  
>"Easy," Matt caught her in his arms before she could fall once more; he really needed to stop falling for damsels in distress. Damn, if he wasn't still so hooked on Elena... "Yep," he just said instead of speaking his mind. "You definitely had too many drinks."<br>"Michael..." The word got out of her mouth without making the slightest bit of sense to her, but it sounded natural.  
>And Matt figured he wasn't the only one who was hooked on someone else. He carried her to a room in the back meant for staff only, and made her lie down on the couch. He wasn't too sure whether she was asleep or unconscious, but he decided that in both case, she needed some rest.<br>That's when Jeremy Gilbert burst into the room, Elena's little brother.  
>"Jeez Matt I've been looking all over for you..."<br>"Hush..." Matt pressed a finger over his lips, speaking in whispers as he waved at the beautiful sleeping-or-unconscious woman on the couch.  
>"Who is she?" Jeremy frowned.<br>"I don't know," Matt answered, "but she's not from around here. She said she was having a bad day, then she had a bit too much to drink so I took her here."  
>"So - she can't hear us, right ?"<br>The idea of having a conversation about in front of the young woman disturbed Matt but Jeremy's tone was urgent; he figured there wasn't too much time to waste.  
>"Nothing she will remember," Matt said, "why were you looking for me?"<br>"It's Stefan," Jeremy answered.  
>Matt's blood ran cold at the mention of Elena's ex-boyfriend - well, her most recent ex-boyfriend, and not the most civilized one. He barely got time to focus on what Jeremy was saying by the time he started to speak again.<br>"Lots of people have been found dead," he continued, "slaughtered, just in the way Stefan used to do it. The reconstructed macabre portraits, the head ripped from their necks -"  
>Matt shivered. He really didn't need to listen more of this. It was enough that he'd found out Elena's ex-boyfriend was a vampire, probably the legend that inspired Jack the Ripper; he could very much do without the details, and he finished for Jeremy. "So Damon thinks that it was Stefan." He let out a sigh. "Jeez, does Elena know?"<br>"Are you kidding? No, she's freaked out enough as it is. Damon's trying to keep it from her but - well, you know Elena. How long do you think he's going to manage?"  
>Matt didn't have time to answer before the front door's bell rang, announcing a new customer. He wasn't alone on duty today, but Tyler Lockwood was probably still flirting with the clientele, and the odds that this new client was an attractive woman were just not big enough.<br>"I'll get it," Matt said with a smile.  
>Mean while, Kellerman and the brothers were entering the bar.<br>"I don't think she'd go there," Michael intervened, "I mean, she's a..." He willingly didn't finish his sentence.  
>"An addict and alcoholic in remission," Kellerman finished, and for a second the mere fact that he knew so much turned Michael's hands into fists. "Yeah, I know the drill. Trust me, that's exactly the reason she's here."<br>"Well," Michael spoke dryly, "if you hadn't just used the phrase 'trust me'..."  
>"Can I help you ?" Matt said, arriving toward his new customers and interrupting the fight before it truly had chance to begin.<br>"We're looking for someone." Kellerman spoke before Michael could even open his mouth. "Nice looking redhead, tall, thin, probably had too much to drink ?"  
>Michael gave him a dreadful look. Paul wasn't sure whether it was because he'd said she'd drunk too much or just because he called her pretty.<br>"Yeah, she's here," Matt said, once more, before an argument could settle. They really ought to hire this young boy.  
>"Is she?" Linc said with a feigned casual shrug. You had to know him to know it was suspicion. "I don't see her nowhere."<br>Kellerman smiled, almost imperceptibly. You can take Lincoln Burrows out of prison, but you can't take the prisoner out of Lincoln Burrows. Matt glanced behind him, toward the room he had led Sara in.  
>"Yeah, just follow me."<br>He took them in the back room where he took Sara, who was now sleeping peacefully. He noticed with unspoken relief that Jeremy had cleared the place.  
>"You've gotta be kidding me," Lincoln muttered as Michael kneeled to reach Sara's height.<br>"God, Sara." Michael let out, although his words didn't fit the gentleness in his voice and in his touch as he reached for her hair with his fingertips, and Lincoln noticed it almost looked unconscious.  
>"Just get her out of here," Kellerman spoke roughly. It wasn't exactly his greatest wish to attend a 'Michael and Sara reunion'.<br>He couldn't help but to look at her, as she lay asleep on some scruffy couch, contrasting with her delicate grace so tremendously it made her obviously gorgeous. She really was beautiful, Kellerman couldn't help but observe. Even with a hang over and her hair all messed up. He was in love with her or anything, god no, in love wasn't exactly Paul Kellerman's type, barring Caroline. No, love wasn't it, he thought to himself; simply he wouldn't have minded being the one carrying her out of the bar in his arms in Scofield's place. He wouldn't have _loved_ to. He just wouldn't have minded.  
>Kellerman cleared his throat trying to get the bitter taste out of his mouth.<br>"Is she okay?" Lincoln asked Matt as they stepped out of the bar.  
>"Yeah, I think so," he answered, "she kind of talked nonsense about making wrong choices for the wrong people, than she passed out<br>Lincoln couldn't do more than to hope that Michael hadn't heard, but between the look on his brother's face and the fact that he was standing less than meter away, there wasn't much hope to go on with. Michael's face toughened, and his arms seemed to tense around Sara's body. And all possibility vanished.  
>"Let's go," he put ice in his voice.<br>He turned to Matt for a second.  
>"Thank you for taking care of her," he said, genuinely grateful.<br>"Yeah, don't mention it." The young waiter said.  
>Michael smiled at young boy, although he he visibly forced it on. Grateful he was indeed; grateful that this kid was here to take care of her, and sad cause he wasn't.<p>

...

Sara woke up slowly, her eyelids suddenly seeming very heavy. She let out a moan as she tried to rise before falling back on the bed.  
>"Hey," she heard a soft voice whisper as she felt Michael's sweet touch on her cheek.<br>"Michael..."  
>"Not now." He interrupted, "Get some rest, we'll talk later."<br>She could tell he was upset simply by the way he talked, and she couldn't understand how his hand on her cheek could feel so soft and sweet if he was feeling so angry.  
>She let out a sigh that came out closer to a wail. "Why," she said when she got a little bit more aware, "you want me to be at my best when you yell at me?"<br>"Something like that," he said, still serious.  
>"It's not like I'm proud of it. It's not like I'm a teenage girl who drowns her misery in alcohol, I'm..."<br>"A young woman who drowns her misery in alcohol."  
>"It's not like that." She got up with a grunt, her head spinning for less than a second before she could face him. "I..." She began, hesitating slightly because if she ever thought she'd talk to Michael about her issue with alcohol - one of her numerous issues - she never thought it would feel shameful, for a strange nameless reason. "I couldn't find any other way out."<br>"You could have talked to me." He spoke calmly but a hint louder.  
>"And how is talking to you gonna make it any better?" She raised her voice as Michael raised his. "Look, I get it, okay? If I open myself to you, share my soul and all my suffering, you get to be the good guy who listened and who were here for me, and then you get feel better but what about me? I won't feel any better. So no, I'm not going to relive this, I'm not going to go through that day again so that you can feel like a hero."<br>"Like a hero?" Michael echoed as he frowned. "You think that I want you to talk to me so that _I_ can feel better? I just wanna help you Sara, not so that I can be a hero but to at least say that I've tried!" He'd raised his voice but hadn't yelled still.  
>"You can't help me." She stated, even though she wouldn't be able to develop the why.<br>"Really?" Because maybe if I'd stayed earlier when you asked me to leave, I wouldn't have found you dead drunk in a bar's staff room."  
>"Don't you dare judge me!" She yelled so loud and unpredictably that Micheal couldn't help but shudder. It wasn't just because of what he'd said, no, that she could have dealt with, but there was disgust in his tone. Slight almost inaudible disgust but she would have noticed the slightest trace of it. She'd heard it too many times in her father's voice not to.<br>"You wanna act like you're better than me? Fine! But don't you dare pretend that you're not playing the better part here, Michael, because you are. You're the hero who did everything it took to save his brother's life, me? I just bought your lies. So you may be better than me but don't you ever judge me, Michael. Not until you get the slightest clue of what I've been through."  
>"But I do."<br>"No you don't, or you wouldn't be standing next to this man, talking to him like nothing ever happened and telling me that you know how I feel."  
>Michael responded in the same tone she used, the both of them went on yelling, shouting at each other while Paul and Lincoln couldn't do much but overhear everything in the next room.<br>"You happy with what you did?" Lincoln spoke in a tone that could have been mistaken for carelessness. "Sara's a nice girl, you know, and you..." He set his eyes on him, his glare full of contempt that didn't reach his voice. "You broke her." He said, incapable of finding better words.  
>Kellerman didn't object. Paul Kellerman had often wish he didn't have to hurt innocent people, although he couldn't exactly say he'd done anything to prevent it. It came with the job, and he had done so many times; he felt sorry for the people he had to hurt or kill, the innocent ones solely, but Paul Kellerman had never ever felt remorse; or shame. Or guilt.<br>Lincoln was right, Sara was a nice girl. When he met her, Paul realized that she was probably the kindest woman he'd ever met; she was funny, sweet, beautiful, she was...  
>Innocent.<br>But he didn't think twice when he was given the orders to get information from her because it was his job, because if he could sacrifice his country, his family and even his own life for Caroline then surely he could sacrifice Sara Tancredi. Mostly, it was because he thought that her face would disappear along with the others. But he could still see her face in his mind, so clearly, back in this motel room in New Mexico, when he wiped the water off her with that towel, he remembered the way she looked at him. And that look did not fade; in fact something told him that no matter how many years passed by, that look on her face would stay with him for as long as he would live, like an everlasting punishment. A punishment he would never deny he deserved.  
>In the end, even though he doubted Sara would ever understand his side of things, this experience was something they would both have to live with. She wouldn't try to see things that way of course, no, how could she? After all he'd done to her, he didn't doubt the last thing she wanted was to realize that after causing her all this pain, he was probably the only one who could understand it.<br>"I bet you're happy with the mess you've created," Lincoln pulled him out of his thoughts and Paul answered emotionlessly.  
>"You're wrong." He countered. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to <em>have<em> to do this," he rephrased, "she could have just told me what I needed to know and gotten out of there without a scratch." The rest of his sentence was spoken to himself mostly, almost like an inward joke that had nothing funny. "She made me hurt her."  
>"Sounds like a poor guy trying to find excuses."<br>Paul let out a joyless chuckle.  
>"Well, it doesn't really matter now, does it? It happened, it's done."<br>"Is that how you deal with things, you robot?"  
>"Why don't you calm down, Burrows? It's terribly difficult to fight when you're angry."<br>"You know what, Kellerman? I think one day you're going to realize that your life was only one big bunch of empty lies, you're going to realize that you ruined everything whatever it is a guy like you cares about, and you want to know something else? I really don't care about that. Just try not to ruin the lives of people I care about."  
>"Like Sara?" A taunting smirk twisted Kellerman's lips.<br>Lincoln stood up wordlessly, walked towards Paul and only stopped when their faces were inches apart.  
>"Yeah," he answered shamelessly, more threatening than ever. "Exactly like Sara."<br>They stared at each other for a while before the adjacent door opened and Sara stormed out, her flaming red hair concealing half of her face as she did everything she could not to look at Kellerman. She walked quickly, aiming for the door without speaking a single word.  
>"Where do you think you're going?" Paul asked.<br>"Shut up." Sara and Michael spoke together as the younger brother entered the room as well.  
>Sara grabbed her purse without slowing her pace for one second.<br>"Come one Sara," Michael attempted to talk some sense into her, "Where are you going to go?"  
>"For a walk." She answered, her voice cold as ice. "And I <em>can<em> go, can't I, Michael? I'm not your prisoner that I know of.  
>She slammed the door on her way out without adding another word.<br>Michael closed his eyes in despair, and only opened them at the annoying sound of Paul Kellerman's amused laughter. He glared at him both in incomprehension and hatred.  
>"Wow," Kellerman said pensively for a justification. "My my, what a temper."<p>

...

Sara walked although she had no idea where to exactly, she tightened her jacket around her as the cold bit her face like a snake, although no attempt to warm herself seemed to truly function. It was a cold dark night. She hated the cold, she'd always hated it even as a child, but she would die before going back to the motel. She started to think about how things had gone with Michael. He'd reproached her to not let him in and she'd reproached him to only care about her because of guilt. Okay, it was a possibility that they'd both exaggerated because they were angry, in spite of how irritated she still was she genuinely wanted to believe this, but there was something blocking her. Because she honestly thought that Michael wouldn't be working with Kellerman if he actually cared about her; if he cared about her _truly_. She couldn't see what they needed Kellerman for that was so important, and especially, she couldn't see why Michael was so determined to keep him on their side.  
><em>Maybe you're just blinded by your emotions<em>, she thought, _maybe Michael's able to keep his feelings from getting in the way_. But that was the thing, she could have never put her feelings for Michael aside, she needed him more than she needed air, she wouldn't ever be able to stand it if someone hurt him, and let alone let that same person join the team. Her footsteps stopped brutally, almost as though she'd hit an invisible wall with her feet as a thought hit her abruptly, without a bit of warning.  
><em>Maybe his feelings for you just aren't as strong as yours for him<em>.  
>That was it, she thought, he cared about her, she knew he did, just not as much as she did. Could she live with that? Or should she walk away? At this point, was she even able to?<br>"What are we doing here so late?"  
>Sara jumped as the dark voice spoke, soft as honey. She couldn't see who he was, he was standing in the darkness away from any street lamp. He laughed in amusement, and itsounded so genuinely kind the fear in her abdomen almost died instantly.<br>"I'm sorry," he said with a friendly smile as he stepped inside the light, "I didn't mean to frighten you."  
>He looked startlingly young, in fact by the sound of his voice she would have said he was at least thirty five. Yet as she got a better look at his face, she noted that something about him seemed extremely old, in spite of his obvious young age. His eyes, dark, but lighted by a spark of something she had seen before, something she could name if she focused on it real hard. Something she had seen in her abductor's eyes a few days ago. It was the thrill of the chase. This man had already killed, she could feel it by the vibes that surrounded him. With that polite smile and friendly voice, he could have looked like a good person if he'd tried. But he wasn't, and that scared her good.<br>"I'm Stefan." He introduced himself. "Stefan Salvatore," he extended his hand politely in order to shake hers..  
>He was wearing black gloves that matched his dark coat. She only shook his hand not to upset him.<br>"I'm Dawn," she lied about her name again, only this time it came out almost as a reflex.  
>"Now why lie?" He said. This time these were the words coming out of his mouth that didn't match the gentleness in his tone.<br>He was working with the company, that's what she immediately assumed; the confidence in his smile, in his gestures and that glimmer of excitement in his eyes - he could only be one of them. Plus if not, what else?  
>"Sorry?" She tried playing dumb. "I'm not -"<br>"Yes, you are lying dear," he interrupted with great calm. "Your heartbeats give you away, your heart beats faster when you lie, and your heart keeps beating faster and faster."  
>His comment terrorized her.<br>"Look," she decided she'd at least be saving time, "whatever it is you want, I don't know what you're talking about."  
>"But I have what I want right here."<br>Sara's blood turned cold as he took a step closer. She found herself paralyzed by fear as he ran a finger across her quickening pulse, before finally burying his face in the crook of her neck, only adding a single more comment that would have been enough to terrorize her alone. "You smell so good."  
>And that was it, she tried running, she couldn't help it even though her trembling legs wouldn't get her very far.<br>"Now you're gonna stop running and stand very still." Stefan spoke, still calm and Sara gasped as she felt herself stop, incapable to move. Just as Stefan said. She was petrified, not a single one of her limbs would obey her. They only obeyed the man in dark.  
>"You humans," he drawled, "you are such a weak species."<br>He started walking around her in circles like a shark facing its prey.  
>"So vulnerable, so easy to break, so..." He finally stopped walking to stand at a few inches from her. "Powerless." He finished dully.<br>"Please..."  
>"Hush." He interrupted without one further bit of gentleness.<br>She just stood there, unable to walk, move or talk. He gazed at her for a second before his lips slowly formed a smile. "Yes," he said, "you humans are the earth's greatest weakness, but I'll give you one thing." Sara's cry remained unheard as Stefan's face changed; his eyes became as dark as the night and two long fangs grew in this inside of his mouth. "You taste delicious." He said before he threw himself on her.  
>Sara's scream remained frozen in her throat as she felt the monster's teeth piercing through her flesh.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Sara could feel the teeth of the man sinking into her neck until they were buried as far as they could go.

Stefan held her neck with one hand to press her skin closer to him. Sara wanted to scream from pain and fear when the monster started sucking for more blood.

She felt him stop to bite for a second to whisper in her ear, his breath warm with her blood.

"You taste like strawberries," he said before planting his fangs in her sensitive flesh once more.

Sara felt her head spinning from the quick loss of blood; she didn't need to be a doctor to know that it wouldn't be long until she lost consciousness. And that thing wouldn't stop until he drank every single drop. She was going to die, right here in that alley.

That's when something pushed the monster away from Sara, sending him to land into a stone wall a couple of meters away and causing Sara to fall to the floor. She hadn't gotten time to see who had been her savior; all she'd be able to remember from him as that he was very strong, and moved very fast.

"Now," he drawled, "how many times have I told you that if you eat all the pretty girls in the planet, there will only be ugly ones left. Aren't you supposed to be good at math? Anyway, that will cause ugly generations, and then when the world will only have ugly babies and when they'll scream 'god why did you do this to us ?', just remember, my brother, that it will be on you."

Sara stood very still on the floor, only paralyzed by shock now.

Stefan got up quickly, apparently not very happy to see his brother.

"Jesus Damon," he said, "can't a guy enjoy a decent meal anymore?"

"Then eat her," Damon said with a shrug, "I don't care. But Elena might."

The monster's face faded away instantly, leaving place to an angel's, the one he'd introduced himself as Stefan, each feature of his beautiful face beautiful and precise, like a thorough delicate design. The last thing Sara thought of before she fainted was that whoever this girl was, she clearly had an influence on that man; maybe she was blackmailing him or something. It didn't even cross Sara's mind at the moment that such a man could love.

"Elena..." Stefan whispered.

"Damon...!" A voice sounded, piercing through the night.

A young girl arrived into the alley, running toward Damon. She was holding a flashlight, which she dropped immediately as she saw Stefan's face.

She had not seen her ex-boyfriend for months, all she had heard were rumors about him becoming a killer, rumors she would have never believed. If it wasn't for the young woman lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

Her eyes slowly moved to the unconscious woman then to Stefan. She could feel tears filling her eyes as she shook her head.

"You didn't." She almost begged.

Stefan had promised himself to remain cold to anything Elena would say but the look in her eyes as tears started streaming down her face was too much... Elena wasn't the kind of girl who cried in front of every movie, she almost never cried at all but when she did... her tears were real.

Stefan swallowed and the taste of the girl's blood filled his mouth for a second; what if someone had just hurt Elena the way he hurt that girl ? How would he have reacted then ? He would have hated this monster, because that's exactly what he was, a monster.

He quickly glanced at the poor woman that he had just fed on. She was innocent, she looked sweet... maybe she was someone's Elena.

Damon's dead heart started to break as he saw the tears forming behind Elena's eyes. He hated his brother just a little bit more for making her cry; why couldn't she just see that he would never make her cry ?

"Elena..." Stefan began shaking his head with a sorry look on her face. It was the sorry look he wore so well.

He let out a gasp when a syringe full of vervein stabbed him from behind. Damon watched his brother fall to the ground next to the girl, his hand holding the empty syringe.

Elena and Damon both stood still for a second, neither of them knew what to say.

"Look Elena..."

"Take care of the girl Damon," Elena cut him off, "check if she's okay than take her somewhere safe."

"All right."

He carried his brother to the car trunk before softly picking the girl up. He checked her pulse, trying to ignore his urge to feed on her open wound.

Her heart was still beating, a bit low, but she'd make it, he thought. She didn't know how lucky she was, rare were the humans who survived the Ripper.

"Your life must be real beautiful for you to hang onto it like that, don't it?" He said.

...

"She should be back by now," Michael said worried like death.

Sara had been gone all night; dawn was breaking now, and Michael had spend the entire night awake, in the living room, by the phone. Lincoln didn't catch a lot of sleep either, but he managed to rest for a couple of hours.

"Just calm down Mike, all right ?" Lincoln said.

"Jesus Christ, some of us are trying to sleep here." Kellerman said, lying on the couch.

He let out an "ouch" as Michael threw at him the closest thing in his grip - it turned out to be a television remote.

"After everything you've done, the least you can do is shut the hell up." Michael spat.

Sara hadn't really given him details of what that man had done to her but Michael knew enough to hate the guy's guts; she'd said he'd tried to get information out of her; Michael had assumed that he hadn't asked kindly.

Kellerman sighed before getting up.

"Okay," he said, "I'll even try to help to show some good faith. When did she say she'd get back ?"

"She didn't." Michael insisted on the last word furiously.

"Look Mike," Lincoln said, "I hate to be the one to tell you this but... maybe Sara just got sick of it all, I mean, maybe she just..."

"No." Kellerman interrupted.

If he knew one thing for sure, it was that Sara would never leave Michael; if she resisted torture just to protect an information that may save his brother's life, it meant that she wasn't able to just leave and get over him.

"She'll be back," he continued, "and if she doesn't, then it won't be by choice."

"Meaning what?" Lincoln immediately sounded suspicious.

"Meaning some bad guy took her?" Paul said, half-joking as he taunted the younger brother.

Michael took one more step in Paul's direction.

"Someone like you?" He simply said.

Paul glared at him before forcing a joyless smile on his lips.

"Well for her sake, I hope not." He said, willingly sounding inconsiderate.

"I swear to god," Michael said, "if she doesn't get back in the exact same state as I left her, if she's hurt somehow, I'll hurt you the same way. I don't care if it's your fault or not, so for your sake..."

He took another step closer to him.

"You better hope you're wrong." He finished.

The tension was getting more and more intense when Michael's cell phone suddenly rang.

Everyone stood still for a few seconds, and when the phone rang for the second time, Michael seemed to unfreeze as he jumped toward the phone.

"Sara." He needed to stop himself from shrieking as he recognized her number.

"Your friend is fine," said the voice on the phone, "you can come and get her. She's at the sundown motel on the fourth avenue."

"Who is this?" Michael said boiling at the idea that someone got his hands on Sara.

"Goodbye Michael," the voice said before hanging up.

"Who was it?" Lincoln asked.

Michael stared at the phone for a second.

"That's what I intend to find out."

...

Damon tried not to be too brutal as he put the young woman on the bed. He sighed; to get her in the motel room without looking like a serial rapist, he had to make up a story for the manager, he'd said that she had too much to drink and even came up with a context, but the manager didn't really seem to care. Given his none-surprised expression as he saw Damon walk in, carrying an unconscious woman in his arms, Damon took it wasn't the first similar case he got.

Damon let out another sigh when he looked at the girl's wound; the vampire bites healed quickly, but the girl was seriously injured. A few months earlier, Damon wouldn't have hesitated before leaving the girl to her fate, but it was before he knew Elena...

A third sigh came out of his mouth when he bit his own wrist before forcing it into the girl's mouth. First she stood very still, than she started fighting it off.

"Hush, hush now honey," he held the girl's head, forcing her to drink. "Good girl," he added seeing she didn't fight him anymore.

After he gave her enough blood, he started checking her pockets, trying to see if he could find any clue regarding someone she knew who might come and pick her up, a sibling or something; he wanted to be done with this as quickly as possible and he would rather it to be before she woke up.

Finally, he found her cell phone.

"Bingo," he said as he took her cell, "well girlie, you have 8 missed calls from one Michael Scofield, maybe he'll take it from here and get me rid of you ? Hum ?"

He laughed at his own comment, not waiting for an answer, obviously.

"Worth the shot," he said and dialed the number.

The man picked up at the second ring.

"Sara?" A worried voice sounded.

"Your friend is fine," Damon said, "you can come and get her, she's at the sundown motel on the fourth avenue."

"Who is this?" The man grew a bit angry.

"Goodbye Michael," Damon said with a smile before hanging up and putting the girl's cell phone back in her pocket.

He threw another glance at her.

"Well I better go before your boyfriend arrives, right?"

He left the motel room, leaving the young woman alone. Before he left the motel, he took the time to talk to the manager.

"Oh," he said, "and hum... if anyone ask, you didn't see me."

"No problem," the old man said, apparently used to that formality.

Damon left, and at the same time, two very worried brothers and an ex-government agent who was pretty concerned too left their own motel room.

"I swear to god that if he hurt her..." Michael mumbled as he drove toward the motel that Damon indicated.

"If he let her go than it means he got what he wanted from her," Paul pointed out, not without increasing Michael's concern.

Kellerman was actually a bit worried as well; he surprised himself truly hoping that Sara Tancredi hadn't been harmed. He didn't exactly know why he was so determined to make sure that nothing happened to this one girl when he'd killed a dozen like her, and never intended to stop. He didn't know either why he kept imagining that if she had been harmed, he'd kill whoever had done it - it just seemed natural to think so - when he was himself the one who hurt her most. He'd seen her being hurt already, he'd hurt her himself, yet the idea of anyone abducting her to take her to a motel room made his fists tighten.

Lincoln couldn't help noticing the concern in Kellerman's voice.

"What's the problem, Kellerman?" He said almost with irony.

Linc knew exactly what Paul was worried about, but he wouldn't let him; the bastard didn't get the right to be worried about Sara, not after everything he'd done.

"Nothing." Kellerman hissed between his teeth.

"You know what I can't stop thinking?" Lincoln continued taunting him some more.

"Enlighten me."

"Sara's a good girl." Lincoln said for an answer. "I just can't see how someone could be cruel enough to kidnap her and keep her prisoner in some motel room."

Kellerman couldn't help but recognizing what he had done to her a week ago.

"I just can't imagine what kind of monster would do that, can you?"

Paul was clearly considering jumping on Lincoln before Michael interrupted.

"Just shut up both of you, all right? You're not doing anything to help her, and Kellerman, next time you open your mouth, if it's not to talk about what you know of the company or about the proof we might have on Lincoln's innocence, I swear to god I'll... actually, it'd be better if you didn't talk at all."

"Okay this stops right here." Paul got angry, "you either want my help or you don't, but make it clear."

"We appreciate your help," Lincoln said, "it's you we have a problem with."

"Look I'm concerned about Sara too..."

"I thought I told you not to say her name!" Michael yelled, his eyes leaving the road.

"Jesus Scofield you want us to have a car accident?"

"See if I care."

Suddenly, without any warning, he pulled over in a deserted alley.

"What are you..." Paul started.

Michael was already getting out of the car.

"Get out," he said to Kellerman.

"Easy now..."

"Now!" Michael repeated.

Kellerman sighed before he got out of the car.

"Get out," Michael said again.

"I'm already out of..."

"No, I meant out of our lives. I don't want your help anymore, not if it's gonna cost me Sara, and I can't work with you without feeling the temptation to break your face every time I think about what you did to her."

Paul just stood there, unable to talk.

"You hurt the wrong person Kellerman. I'm offering you to leave, and if you don't, I'll kill you myself."

Lincoln got out of the car too, to face his brother.

"Look Mike," he said, "I can't imagine what it's like for you... or her, but we need him. You know it, don't let your emotions..."

"Lincoln stay out of this," Michael said.

"Stop acting like a teenager in love Scofield," Paul said, "look there's one thing I know that should get to you right now, I know Sara's alone in a motel room after having been through god knows what, and she's probably waiting for you, and you're just wasting time."

A chill ran over Michael's spine when Kellerman mentioned his love. Without adding another word, the young man got back in the car and got the motor running.

Lincoln got in the car after making a quick nod toward Kellerman to tell him that he should also get in.

All three of them were silent during the rest of the trip.

...

Sara slowly opened her eyes, her mouth was dry and her whole body was numb. At first, she had no memory at all of yesterday's events.

Than it slowly started to come back to her; the fight with Michael, when she decided to take a walk, then... then that strange man dressed in black. What had he done to her ? She tried to get up and suddenly felt a violent pain in her neck. She put her hand on the wound and noticed she was still bleeding.

Did he... bite her ? That's what it felt like, he... he said that she smelled delicious and then his face... his face turned into something horrible.

And then he bit her. It was clear and she couldn't avoid the truth, but why?

That's when she heard footstep in the hallway. Her body froze, she immediately realized that she had no idea where she was and that the footsteps had every chance to be coming from the man she met last night.

Without thinking about it twice she got on her feet and barely had time to hide in the bathroom before she heard the door opening. She heard the man walking in the bedroom, probably looking for her. Looking for anything that could help her, she grabbed the hair dryer, ready to use it as a weapon; she suddenly saw the door handle turn and she didn't think about it twice before hitting the man with the hair dryer. The man that was none other than Michael.

"God I'm so sorry!" She said as he rubbed his head right above his eyebrow, where Sara had just hit him.

That was going to leave a mark.

"It's okay, I'm fine."

"I thought you were someone else..." she started.

When he raised his eyes toward her he suddenly felt the relieve it was to finally be close to her.

"Come here," he whispered before holding her to him, putting an end to her apologies.

Sara curled against him, forgetting everything about the argument they'd had yesterday.

"I'm so sorry," he said without moving an inch further away from her.

She knew he was talking about their last conversation.

"It's okay," she said, "it's my fault..."

She couldn't help but cry against his chest, suddenly feeling the relief it was to finally being able to see pass her anger against him and just be able to realize how scared she'd been, how much she had missed him. And how much it had hurt her to feel like he was away for days, even when he was sitting right next to her.

"Calm down Sara," he whispered as he stroked her hair softly, "it's okay, it's gonna be okay, I promise."

His hand lowered to rest on her cheek as her face was still buried in his chest. He felt the same relief she had; it was so painful to see her so hurt everyday because of what he had put her through, and not being able to help... but all it took was a moment with her in his arms to be sure that things would be just fine.

He was pulled from his thoughts when his hand lowered to her neck, causing the young woman to gasp.

He stepped away and noticed his fingertips were covered with her blood.

"What happened to you?" He asked, terrified.

"I'm not sure..."

"Let me see," he said before slowly removing her hair to get a clear look at her neck.

Rage rushed through his body as he saw the deep marks made by the monster's teeth.

"Who did this to you?" He said the anger vibrating in his voice.

"I..." she whispered her memories still a little confused, "can we talk about it later? I just wanna go home."

He couldn't help but enjoy the warm sensation overwhelming his body when the word "home" came out of her mouth; it made him feel like wherever they were, they were home as long as the were together. Even if right now "home" was a motel room they shared with his brother and her torturer.

"Sure," he said, "we'll talk once we'll be away from here."

She nodded.

"Where's Lincoln and..." she said, her voice still blocking on his name.

"They're at the car."

Sara swallowed at the idea to be in the same place than this man, but she didn't want Michael to see her freak out so she just acted like he hadn't said anything to bother her.

As they walked out of the motel and towards the parking lot, Sara prepared herself mentally. She didn't want to see or hear anything from Kellerman, and she prayed silently that he would just ignore her.

She felt slightly relieved as she felt Michael's arm making its way around her waist as he kissed her on the top of her head.

"It'll be okay," he said.

She forced a smile on her lips for an answer. Michael could see her smile was fake, but he was still relieved to see she didn't pull away when he brought her closer to him.

Anyone who would see them right now would say they were boyfriend and girlfriend. The truth was way more complicated than that.

As she spotted the car, she saw Lincoln sitting before the wheel on the driver seat and Kellerman sitting next to him.

She felt her throat tighten as she saw for the second time the man who had tortured her. She didn't let her eyes linger on him; she wouldn't give him the satisfaction, instead she sat on the back seat, and Michael was next to her a few seconds later.

"Glad to see you in one piece," Lincoln commented.

Although Sara could see him smile in the mirror of the car, she noted a bit of worry in his voice still. He'd be worried until he knew for sure what had happened to her.

"Yeah," she said as he started the car.

"We were really worried you know," Linc said, "they didn't hurt you did they..."

"Actually," Paul cut him off, "I think the proper question right now would be who were 'they'?"

Sara felt herself freezing as she heard his voice, like someone who's just been thrown in a pool of ice cubes.

"Don't talk to her," Michael said.

The sound of Michael's voice made Sara feel a little bit better.

"I'm sorry but if it was the company it's my business too," Kellerman said.

Sara swallowed. She certainly wasn't going to say in front of that bastard that some creep had bit her and that she hadn't screamed because he'd asked her not to. She'd have enough trouble explaining that to Michael without imagining Kellerman's comments on her story.

"It wasn't them," she said, her voice as cold as ice.

"What?" Michael said.

It didn't even cross his mind that someone else could have taken Sara, then what would have been their agenda ?

The young woman was starting to remember more and more details; she could now remember what stopped the monster from killing her, she could remember that her savior's face was the last thing she saw before she blacked out.

"Then who was it?" Kellerman asked his voice making Sara chill.

"I don't want to tell you," she said.

She was suddenly feeling like a child yet nothing was funny about it; she just felt like a little kid facing the boogeyman.

"Oh, well that helps," Kellerman scoffed.

"If you say one more word Paul I'll throw you out of the car," Michael warned.

He obeyed but Sara could still imagine the smirk on his face.

She had the feeling she was going to collapse before she felt Michael's hand take hers. She jumped in surprise but he thought he'd frightened her, he was about to remove his hand when she held on to it.

"Don't", she said with her lips only. He had a sad smile toward her before binding his fingers around hers. He lifted her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it.

She couldn't help remembering how soft his lips felt on hers when he had kissed her a month ago in the infirmary, it felt like a hundred years ago but she couldn't forget the sensation of his lips on hers...

Michael felt her cold fragile hand getting warmer inside his palm, he wanted to get closer to her and hold her against him just like he did in the motel earlier, he wanted the third man in this car to disappear along with Sara's pain, he wanted to kiss her and feel her bare skin under his fingers, kissing their troubles away.

But it wasn't going to be easy, it would be hard, but Michael was okay with it. Because they'd face it together, no matter what, and they would have the life he dreamed they'd have.

"One day".


	4. Chapter 4

"You okay?" Michael asked as they both walked into the motel room they shared.

"Fine," Sara said, relieved that Kellerman was finally out of her sight.

Michael could see that Sara wasn't fine and that she was just pushing him out, just like she had yesterday when she'd asked him to leave instead of opening up to him.

But he didn't insist. Because after all, who was he to insist?

"So," he attempted a casual tone quite poorly, "you said you wanted to wait until we were alone to talk about what happened to you last night, so... what happened?"

Sara couldn't help but to inwardly panic. Michael noticed.

"Look," this time worry was audible in his voice, "I know you don't wanna talk about it but I have to know..."

She sat on the bed, exhausted, before burying her face in her hands. Michael said next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. She turned toward him but her eyes couldn't stand to look into his so she held him close, her face nestled in the crook of his neck.

"To tell you the truth I'm not sure what happened." She admitted.

He wanted to look her in the eyes at that moment but he couldn't stand the idea of breaking their embrace.

"Take your time," he tried to speak quietly, "just tell me where you went after you left the motel room."

She dragged in a deep breath, inhaling his bewitching sent.

"I don't know," she said, "I just walked around, as far as I could. I didn't pay attention to where I was going."

"What happened then?" He asked softly.

He didn't want to rush her, but he couldn't remain ignorant any longer. He had to know.

"A man stopped me," she answered. "He was really polite, but in his eyes... it's like he wasn't even trying to hide his intentions."

Michael felt her hands tightening around his neck; it was as though she was afraid to fall and she was holding onto him.

"Then he got creepy and started to tell me my heart was beating fast, that I was scared, and that... that I smelled good."

Sara felt Michael's body get tense and then that strange thought occurred to her; the thought that she'd never have the strength to look him in the eyes again. Almost like shame.

"So I started running but he..." She couldn't find any way to rehash last night's events without sounding crazy. "He told me to stop and to stand very still and I... I don't know why but it was like I couldn't move, my limbs wouldn't obey me, it's like that man had the power to make me do whatever he wanted..."

Michael wanted to tell Sara to stop, he couldn't hear anymore but instead he heard himself ask.

"What did he do to you?"

She remembered the man's face changing and his teeth growing so he could plant them into her neck, digging into her flesh and sucking her blood.

"I don't know."

What she saw couldn't be real, she knew it, she didn't believe in these kind of things, but that man, that creature or whatever he was... he wanted to drink her blood. She wanted last night to have never existed, she didn't want to know this, she didn't wanna believe in these things...

"This man..." she said as she felt Michael was holding on to her just as strongly as she was, "he... she said, he wasn't human."

"Then what was he?"

The word grazed her lips but it wouldn't come out. What else could he be ? But she couldn't say the word, she couldn't allow herself to believe in it.

"A vampire." The word escaped her mouth almost unwillingly as Michael moved away to look at her.

"A vampire?" He echoed, almost sounding relieved.

"I know how it sounds Michael, but he... his face I just saw it, his face turned horrible then he bit me and..."

"Calm down," he whispered.

He gently caught her by the shoulders as he placed a finger under her chin, lifting her face so that she would look at him.

"A vampire." He repeated once more, almost so that she'd hear the craziness of it.

She felt so stupid.

"I swear to you, his face just went crazy -"

"Just calm down, Sara. You're in over your head here."

She knew his words were kind but she ignored his comment nonetheless.

"You believe me right?" No matter how kind his words had been so far, it wouldn't matter if he didn't answer this question right.

He sighed, his hand slipping intentionally towards her neck.

"I believe that it's what you thought you saw."

She pulled away from him.

"I know what I saw." She objected, calm but firm. "That thing drank my blood." She emphasized the last word as her hand directly placed itself on her injured neck. "Or else how do you explain the wound?"

"Sara," he spoke gently, "there're a lot of creeps out there, a lot of bad people, and you want to know what I think?"

He placed his hand on her cheek, trying to get her to look at him. He felt tears forming behind his eyes as he spoke his next words.

"I think you were so traumatized by what happened last night that your mind -"

"Michael, no." She interrupted, "I know what happened, I remember. Trust me, the guy wasn't intrested by that, he didn't try to take my clothes off or anything, he didn't even touch me, he was trying to eat me."

She was starting to get seriously annoyed by Michael Scofield and his rational mind.

"Michael you know me," she tried to speak more calmly, "you know that I'm not a believer, I'm a rational, sane woman, and I wouldn't imagine this kind of stuff, and if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes maybe I wouldn't believe it either but..."

She took his face in both of her hands.

"I'm not asking you to trust the unreal or to trust what doesn't exist, I'm asking you to trust me."

She didn't sound angry, just pleading. Michael knew she expected him to say something, and he really wanted to... he just didn't know what to say.

She lowered her eyes after she realized he wasn't going to talk. She let go of his face, got up and reached the door as he stood on the bed and sighed.

She turned the door handle and threw a last glance at him before she left; it was as though she couldn't leave until everything she wanted to say was out of her system.

"You know," she said, "I believed every lie you told me."

He closed his eyes; he didn't have the strenght to even look at her.

"I did everything you asked me to so I could help save your brother's life," she continued, "you have no idea what I've been through to help you fight for him and I didn't complain, and I endured everything you put me through and I know it hurt you, but you couldn't give up because you kept fighting and fighting for him but..."

She stopped briefly and he opened his eyes, yet he was still unable to move an inch.

"You never fought for me." She finished as she opened the door and left.

Michael's eyes closed shut again. Sara was asking him to believe in everything he was taught not to believe, everything he could never believe, and he wasn't just going to pretend he bought it when he didn't, it wouldn't be fair to her.

At the same time, Kellerman saw one really pissed off Sara storming out her bedroom and slamming the door behind her before aiming for the exit.

Lincoln was in the bathroom, taking a shower, which left Sara and Kellerman all alone.

"Christ, not again." Kellerman muttered with an eye-roll as Sara reached for the door, her eyes avoiding him with visible effort.

Deciding he didn't have much of a choice, Kellerman got to the door before she could and violently slammed it shut right at the second she tried to open it.

"Back off." Her words came out more brutal than if she'd punched him in the face.

This was only the second time they exchanged words since she'd seen him again; especially, it was the first time they were alone together, the first time since...

"Now Sara, I'm just looking out for you. Remember what happened last time you ran out like that?"

She didn't answer, he was really close to her, too close to her, she wanted to run away but his eyes set right into hers were like an invisible rope that prevented her from moving an inch. Even if his words didn't sound like it, they were much more of a threat than hers.

He felt her weakness and he couldn't help smiling, amused by the way she was looking at him.

"Jesus, what am I to you? The devil?"

He couldn't help laughing, amused by her stubbornness to keep seeing him as a monster.

Sara felt horrible. His laugh sounded so warm, so... Lance. Yet something in his eyes frightened her.

He could feel how weak she felt right now, and he liked it. If there was one thing Paul Kellerman loved to have, it was power, control over people, he loved the rest of the world being helpless puppets while he pulled the strings.

That was the only thing he truly enjoyed.

Yet he had enjoyed these afternoon spent at Sara's apartment, it was the first time in his life he had felt this. Of course, Caroline had always been the most important person in his life, he would have given anything to gain her love; he had been loyal, he had done everything she asked him to do, he had been by her side for 15 years and he had hoped every second that she would one day return his feelings. She had asked him to kill, she had asked him to serve her, and in exchange, she had made him her right arm.

But she had never made him happy.

That was the difference. With Sara, it felt... it felt so light, so enjoyable, just two normal persons hanging out, eating pie, laughing, having a good time... the sad thing in this was that it may have all just been fake, a job, a lie... it was the realest feeling Paul Kellerman had felt in his life and ever would.

Sara couldn't lower her eyes even though the sight of this man made her heart tighten; she was afraid to leave him out of her sight, as though he was going to jump on her or something; she felt like a doe facing a lion that could kill her in a heartbeat.

Tears formed behind her lids when she thought unwillingly of what he'd done to her when he'd abducted her.

Suddenly it felt like she was back to this place, it felt so real, she could almost taste what this motel room smelled like, she could hear the sound it made when drops of her blood fell to the floor; she could hear the fire crackle. And worse of all, the awful sound added to paralyzing fear, the acute noise it made when he sharpened his knifes, the patient peaceful look on his face as Sara caught a glimpse of his reflection in his blade. She had looked away, incapable to face her fate, incapable to face the truth, incapable to face him.

But it was over now. Now she was standing in front of that man again, but this time she wouldn't look away, she wouldn't be powerless in front of him again. Never again.

"I said," she spoke very slowly as she repeated the two words more strongly than before. "Back. Off."

Paul couldn't help but admiring her. That was what attracted him to her, what was so special about her, she could be so strong and hold her head up high even when she was weak and helpless.

None of them moved, both of them challenging the other silently, daring each other to lower their eyes.

That's when the bathroom's door opened and Lincoln got out, putting his shirt on. He stopped walking immediately as he saw Sara and Kellerman murdering each other with their eyes.

"Wow" he said, "let's all take a deep breath and two steps backward, how does that sound?"

Sara stepped away, not without hating herself for lowering her eyes, letting Paul win.

She wanted to snap that smirk right off his face.

"How much more time until we leave this place, Linc?" Sara said back to ignoring Paul, "I don't know if I can take it much longer."

"That's what I came to tell you guys about," Lincoln said, "remember how we came in Mystic Falls cause I knew this guy who may have a safe place for us until Cooper Green can contact us to tell us if that tape we found can be used as evidence in court?"

"Yeah," Sara said, "so what ? That guy never called you back."

"He did just now," Linc said with a smile, "he couldn't call before 'cause he was in trouble, but things cleared out for him, so he's gonna help us anyway."

"That's great," Paul said.

"No one cares if you talk jackass," Lincoln said in a very normal tone. His eyes went back to Sara. "Anyway, he's going to send us to this place, it's a huge manor in a quiet city, not a soul will bother us there."

"Lincoln that's amazing. When do we leave?"

"He can have the jet ready for us tomorrow morning. So you're better start packing."

"And this city," she asked, "what is it called?"

"Sunnydale," Linc answered, "I heard it's a really

peaceful neighborhood."

Sara nodded, feeling a little bit happier. Even if Kellerman would be in the same house, at least she wouldn't have to see him twice a day.

She could still remember the tension that had set up between the two of them before Lincoln walked in, and something in Paul's eyes - Sara almost felt like he like it.

What a sadist creep, she thought, without even thinking for a second that he wasn't being a sadist, just more human than she thought possible.

"Hum," Sara said, "anyway, Linc, do you mind if I crush in your room tonight? Michael and I kind of had a fight..."

She couldn't just say it without it affecting her. When she remembered the painful silence when she had asked Michael to believe her... she felt like she'd never have the strength to face him again.

"And, hum..." she said, "I just don't think the two of us in the same room will do it tonight."

"No problem. Paul, you'll just sleep on the couch alright?" He didn't wait for an answer. "And hum," he said to the young woman, "if you... hum... if you wanna talk about what happened last night, I... hum... just wanna say that I'm here, alright?"

She forced a smile on.

"Thanks Linc."

She didn't bother wondering if Lincoln would be more open to her story than Michael had been. She knew he wouldn't.

Michael had once talked to her about how his brother told him that fear wasn't real and that there was no monster in the closet, just fear. So she could already see the look on Lincoln's face if she started talking about vampires.

"Not right now," she said before disappearing in his room.

...

Michael was sitting alone on the bed, Sara's last sentence echoing inside his mind. "You never fought for me".

He was so mad at her for saying that, he felt the rage growing inside him each time he heard it, like a broken record repeating itself over and over again.

Never fought for her? He thought, what about saving her from a riot, huh? How was that for life-saving?

Though it was that same riot he'd himself started. He couldn't help adding.

He sighed, wondering to himself if it were true. Had he really only saved her from situations he'd himself put her in? Had he been so concerned by his brother's life that he'd ended up being less concerned about hers? Her who meant everything to him, her for whom he would kill and die for. Yet he couldn't help but admit that he hadn't done much to prove her that. Had he killed that monster who hurt her a few days ago? Had he died trying to protect her last night? No; hell he hadn't even believed her.

She was right and he knew it, which made it even worse because the rage inside him wasn't against her. But against him.

He wished he could just tell her how much she truly meant to him, how much he cared about her, how he couldn't breathe whenever someone mentioned her name, how he thought of her every second of every day while they were apart. How much he loved her.

But why couldn't he just tell her that ?

He heard a brief knock on the door before Lincoln entered without waiting to be invited in.

"Guess what," his brother said, "we're good for the safe house in Sunnydale. We're leaving tomorrow."

His younger brother didn't have the expected reaction.

"That's great," he said, indifferent.

Lincoln immediately spotted the connection between his younger brother's state and the "fight" Sara had mentioned earlier.

"So," Lincoln said, "you and Sara fightin'?"

When they were younger, Michael and Lincoln told each other everything about anything. But this time, Michael couldn't just talk about Sara like he had with any other girl.

"I really don't wanna talk about it, Linc."

"Come on," his big brother said sitting next to Michael on the bed, "why would you break me out of prison if it weren't to bore me with all your problems?"

Lincoln was hoping to get a smile out of his brother, but apparently, it was a lost cause.

"Come on," he insisted, "talk to me."

Michael sighed. "I've been such a fool."

Lincoln shrugged, telling himself that a tortured Michael was better than a silent Michael.

"I mean with Sara," he continued, "I..." He sighed once more. "It's just that what she told me earlier... she asked me to believe her and I didn't."

"What?" Lincoln was too surprised to hold back from speaking loudly. "How could you be so stupid, Mike? She's been through so much in a month, then she's kidnapped and taken to a motel room, she's completely freaked out and when she finally talks to you, you don't believe her?" There was more genuine shock than anger in his voice; perhaps it hurt a bit more than if it'd been the other way around.

"Well..." Michael hesitated. "What she told me was pretty hard to believe."

"And? What did she tell you?"

Michael sighed again.

"I don't know if I should tell you that. I mean... she kind of looked like she wanted it to be private..."

"Yeah from psycho Kellerman, not me. Come on, you know me, you know how I care about her. I won't tell a soul."

Michael hesitated.

"Well?" Linc said, "what attacked her?"

"She said it was a vampire," Michael ended up blurting.

He knew how crazy it sounded just by hearing it leaving his own mouth.

"Oh." Lincoln managed out.

"Told you."

...

Sara was in her new temporary bedroom, sitting in front of the mirror and brushing her auburn hair. She hadn't really had time to take care of her appearance lately, actually she felt like she hadn't even seen a hair brush in centuries. She ran the brush through her soft hair that reached her breasts, then put the brush down and tried to put a little makeup on.

She was never really one to care for the way she looked, but doing some normal things like that kept her mind off things such as the fact that she was on the run with the two most wanted men in America; along with an ex-spy. That and the fact that she had just run into a creature thirsty for blood.

She suddenly heard a knock on the door.

Michael, figures. She guessed immediately. But she wasn't planning on opening up just yet. Michael had hurt her, during this fight she'd told him everything she had been keeping to herself for way too long, that she would never come first with him and that he didn't realize what he was putting her through.

She was mad at him, big time. But she couldn't help thinking of this morning, when they saw each other in the motel room, it felt like all their problems were gone, like they were the only thing that mattered to each other and the rest of the world could go to hell. She wanted that back just a little bit more than she wanted to stay angry at him.

But this time she wouldn't just forgive him because he missed her and she loved him, not again, she'd done this too many times already. If he missed her as much as she missed him, then he would have to come up with some more creative apologies.

That was the least he could do after everything he'd done, all the act and the lying. Oh, and plus now he wouldn't even believe her. Though, she wasn't even sure she believed it herself, she needed him to. She needed him to stand by her, to help her in her darkest times, to believe in her even when she didn't believe in herself. She needed him to fight for her.

She heard a second knock on the door.

Resigned to stand strong and cold during their whole conversation, she walked toward the door and turned the handle.

She gasped and her mouth slightly opened when she saw Kellerman standing in front of her.

It took a few seconds for her state of shock to pass and not much more time to react and close the door.

His hand stopped hers, opening the door wider.

"Please don't be like that, Sara," he said, "I just wanna talk to you."

He easily got the door open with one hand when she was trying to close it with all her strengths, using both hands.

"It can't be like that every time we see each other," Paul said, "we're working together, we're a team, now."

She could see that making up wasn't exactly why he was here.

"Get out," she said, terrified.

Again, he couldn't help laughing at her reaction.

"Oh don't look at me like that, I'm not gonna hurt you again, I promise."

The fact that he was laughing telling her that didn't comfort her at all.

"Go." She tried to sound more threatening than pleading.

"Look Sara, we need to find a compromise, you know that right?"

Fear taking over her former resignations, she changed tactics.

"If you're not gone in the next five seconds I'm going to scream."

He appraised her for a few seconds before grinning so confidently Sara's blood ran cold.

"No, you're not." He simply stated.

She didn't exactly know what that meant but she was pretty sure it wasn't good.

"See?" He said with a small chuckle, "the way you're looking at me, right now, that's what I'm talking about. You look at me like I'm a monster or something, but I'm not going to hurt you Sara, trust me."

"Coming from you that'd be the hell of a leap of faith," her voice was cold as ice.

He didn't answer right away.

"You're telling me how you feel," he said. "Good, don't keep your anger to yourself."

"Stop pretending you know me and get the hell out of my face." She spoke with an attitude she would have never thought she could pull less than a second ago.

He never saw her like that; he'd known her as an innocent lost little lamb, now she was being more like an full out tiger. And he didn't dislike it, to be honest.

"Now," she said.

"I'm just trying to make things better for you," he said, still a bit stunned.

"Then drop dead."

It was the last thing he heard before the door was slammed in his face.

...

"A vampire," Lincoln repeated.

Michael wasn't even sure his brother was addressing to him or to himself.

"Yeah," Michael said.

"A... vampire." Lincoln said again.

"I'm more surprised than you are."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Linc said his eyes wide open in shock.

"I know, right? And now she's acting like I don't trust her, but she can't blame me for not believing in vampires I mean... she can't, right?"

"You're right," Lincoln said, "but... it's weird, Sara's not the kind who believes in this sort of stuff."

"I know, it's so strange, but... I think she must have blacked out last night and her mind replaced the reality by fiction because..."

"'Cause what?" Lincoln said, "because reality was too awful to face?"

Michael's fists tightened at that idea.

"I don't know which theory I rather believe," Michael ended up saying. "I think I might go with the vampires."

"It's not about what you want to believe, Mike."

"I know, and I just... what she said, she wanted me to believe her but I... I just can't Linc."

That's when they heard the loud sound of a door being slammed. The exchanged a scared knowing look.

...

Paul Kellerman stood in front of the door even though Sara had slammed it to his face minutes ago. He could not believe that she'd had the nerves to slam a door right to his face. He stood frozen, both annoyed and angry but also pleasantly surprised.

Yep, that girl did have some nerves. He couldn't help but smile as he sat on the couch.

And then some really worried Michael and Lincoln stormed out the door.

"Sara!" Michael yelled.

"Is she gone?" Lincoln shouted.

"What the hell's wrong with the two of you?" Kellerman said.

"Where is she?" Michael yelled, trying to grab Kellerman's throat.

"In her room you idiot!"

Michael and Lincoln exchanged another look as they both felt very stupid.

"Jesus," Lincoln said, "crazy stories, runaways at night, panicking as soon as a door's slammed... Don't take it the wrong way, Mike, but I feel like I'm raising another teenager."

Michael didn't object.

"Yep," Kellerman said, "I did not sign up for this."

"No one asked for your opinion," Michael spat.

"Calm down" Paul said, "I'm just telling the truth here, you need to put some senses into you're girlfriend's mind right now, I mean she's gotta stop being a kid and grow up."

Sara was leaning on her door, listening to every word.

"Hey shut up," she heard Lincoln said, "that girl's been through a lot."

"Yeah," Paul said with a laugh, "and I think it seriously fucked up her brain."

"You're the one who did this," Michael said, "this is all your fault."

"Let's be honest here," Paul laughed, "that girl was a mess before I even met her, I mean, she was a rich's kid that could have had everything she wanted, and she kept self-destructing herself; drugs, drinks, working in a male prison, I mean that's some sick shit right?"

She felt her legs trembling as she slowly fell to the floor in tears.

"You don't know the first thing about her," Michael said, "you don't know her..."

"Just face it Scofield, the girl's a mess."

Sara would have loved to prove him wrong but it was kind of hard to do with burning tears streaming down her face. She closed her eyes in despair.

"All I'm saying is that between running away with some escaped convicts," Paul continued, "inviting strangers into her home, trusting someone she barely knows, and add to all that an overdose... it kind of sounds like someone who doesn't really want to live."

Sara felt a knot form inside her abdomen; that man was breaking her again.

'Just say something Michael,' she thought, 'just yell at him and tell him he's wrong. Just fight for me, just fight for me please...'

She closed her eyes to prevent in vain another tear from falling; all she could hear was silence and she wasn't even surprised.


	5. Chapter 5

Sara walked away from the door; she didn't want to hear any more of it. She lied down on the bed and hugged the covers to her. It gave her comfort; it made her feel like she wasn't alone even though she was.

All the sudden she wondered what her father would say if he could see her like this. If he could see everything that happened to her after his death? Sara was pretty sure that a life on the run with two ex-convicts and a murderer wasn't exactly the life Frank Tancredi had pictured for his daughter.

She couldn't help but imagine the look on her father's face if he could indeed see her right now. He'd probably be saying something like "I didn't raise you to grow up like this", or "you should know better than that".

And she should have. She really, really should have.

...

Michael didn't object to Kellerman's reply, he felt like he couldn't say something to that bastard without it implying another fight, and even though he wouldn't mind the least, Michael didn't want Sara to walk in to see the two of them fighting.

He sighed, willing to drop the whole thing until he looked back on Kellerman's words and looked at him suspiciously.

"Wait," he said, "what do you mean 'she's in her room'?"

"Oh," Lincoln was the one to answer that, "hum... Sara kind of asked me if she could crash in my room tonight, since the two of you aren't doing so well."

Michael couldn't help but feel a tiny bit threatened when he imagined his womanizer brother sharing room with Sara. God, how ridiculous was that? After everything they'd gone through together, they were way passed stealing the other's girlfriend.

"Oh." Michael tried to keep that in mind as he responded. "I don't mind at all."

No one bought it and Lincoln was counting in his head the time it would take for his brother to speak again.

"But, hum," Michael continued as Lincoln grinned. "Couldn't we come up with a better arrangement? I mean I don't... I don't want her to bother you, I'm sure we could arrange things differently."

"Well," Kellerman grinned, "I could room with her if you prefer."

His tone didn't hide what he implied by that.

Lincoln froze; his brother wasn't going to let Kellerman get away with that, Lincoln knew this, he knew his little brother. His little brother that now had both fists tightened and rage in his eyes.

"Michael, calm down. Let's just go, let's just drop this and..."

He didn't have the time to add anything else before Michael threw himself on Kellerman, causing both of them to fall from the couch.

The young man didn't care about anything else than damaging that man as much as he could, killing him even. Michael was so full of rage that even Lincoln couldn't keep him away from his goal.

"Michael!" Lincoln yelled trying to get him off Paul, "Forget it, Mike, he isn't worth it!"

...

Sara was lying on her bed, her hands playing nervously with her jacket's loop. She sighed, thinking about what her life was like a few months ago. She was a doctor, she had a father, and she would have laughed at the word vampire. God she missed that, her job, helping people, it made her feel like doing something good, something selfless, something that made her feel like she could be better. Better than what she actually was, better than what her father saw her as...

She felt like she had always been a disappointment to him, as though she was never good enough for him. She would have given anything for him to think of her differently, at least for a short moment, before he died.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a loud noise coming from the living room. It sounded like a struggle.

She got up on her feet and ran to the door.

...

Lincoln tried to push his brother off Kellerman but Michael was a lot angrier than his brother, which made him impossible to stop.

His hands were now grabbing at Kellerman's throat.

Michael couldn't hear his brother, he couldn't hear any sound at all coming from the small living-room. All he could focus on was the fact that he was squeezing on a monster's throat, and what that monster had done to his Sara. All he could see was this fragile vulnerable woman being tortured by her ruthless abductor. And all he could hear was her sweet broken voice playing over and over again inside his mind. "You never fought for me".

His hands tightened around the man's neck so hard he was ready to kill when he heard a door slam.

"Michael." He heard her say, hasty and terrified.

He stopped in his dash immediately as his face turned to the beautiful young woman.

Sara never saw Michael like that, there was nothing in his face but rage, just pure rage. But that changed the second he turned his eyes to her. It was as though he melted. His eyes which were dark an instant ago were now as soft and a quiet ocean once the storm has passed.

"Sara," he whispered, his voice as soft as silk.

The young woman saw him get up slowly, his fists were bleeding, or was it not his blood? Michael walked slowly to her and stopped only at a few inches from her; he didn't wanna scare her.

She knew she had to take the first step, so she pulled him in her arms and hugged him silently. He slowly responded to her embrace, he put his first hand on her back, bringing her closer to him and put the other one on her neck, leaving it to sink into her soft silky auburn hair.

She buried her face in his chest, listening to the sound of his raging heartbeat that slowly slowed to a normal and regular beat.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, still confused.

"It's okay."

"I..." he said.

I love you. He wanted to say it and he meant it, he opened his mouth but the words just wouldn't come out.

"I know," she said holding him closer, "So do I."

For a second, both of them were quiet and everything was perfect.

"So," Lincoln ended up saying, breaking the moment, "I guess I can sleep alone in my room tonight, hum?"

...

"I'm sorry," Michael said again.

Sara and him were both lying on the bed. She was holding him close, her face resting on his chest; he had an arm around her waist and the other one behind her neck as his hand gently stroked her hair.

"It's okay," she whispered, her eyes peacefully shut.

She was feeling so good right now, she didn't want to think about their fight, or Kellerman, or vampires. None of this mattered right now. Right now, he was holding her in his arms and that's all that mattered.

Michael had never felt so safe in his life, she was right there with him, in his arms, no one could hurt her, he wouldn't let them. He softly kissed her on the top of her head.

Sara had noticed that even though they were cuddling on a bed all night and that it was now more than obvious that they loved each other, they still hadn't kissed since months ago, in the infirmary.

"Look," Michael began, his voice silky-soft, "about earlier..."

"The when you didn't believe me earlier, or the when you tried to kill Kellerman earlier?" Sara said with a grin.

"Both," he said smiling too, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry alright."

"No," she countered, "I mean, I shouldn't have asked you to trust me blindly, I probably wouldn't have believed me either."

She laughed but he didn't.

"If you say that that's what you saw, then that's what you saw." He simply said, wonderfully serious.

She knew he didn't believe in it, not really. But she appreciated the gesture.

"Thank you," she said raising her head from his chest to look at him, "and... I'm sorry about what I said, about you not fighting for me..."

"You were right."

"No," she objected, "I shouldn't have spoken like that, I didn't mean it, I'm just being so selfish with you. You rescued me so many times! You... you saved me from a prison riot, that's something!" She chuckled slightly, but he didn't. She still wasn't aware of how that riot had started.

"Forgive me," Michael begged as he ran his hand on Sara's cheek.

"You're all forgiven," she said without thinking it over twice.

She softly took his hand and put a light kiss on it.

"It's my fault anyway," she said, "I mean, if I hadn't left you in Gila none of this would have happened and we'd both be in Panama right now."

She hated Kellerman for that.

"No," Michael said, "I understand why you left, why you couldn't forgive me, I understand all that because..."

He had now softly taken her face in both of his hands and he was slowly stroking his thumb against her soft cheek making a chill run over her. "I can never forgive myself."

"It's okay. He's your brother, you couldn't just let him die, he means the world to you, I understand that."

"No you don't understand," Michael said his hand readjusting a lock of hair behind her ear, "you just don't see it do you? You mean everything to me," he said finally saying the words he had be dying to say each other again. "And I promise that I will never do anything to hurt you, that I will never disrespect you or take you for granted. Sara I promise that as long as I'll live, I will try to make you as happy as you made me, I will shield and protect you and I will stay with you as long as you will have me. Sara I love -"

He blindly realized that he'd never finish his sentence as Sara's lips crushed his violently. He was so surprised his eyes opened wide for a second, but he shut them quickly to make it even more enjoyable. He could feel her tongue entering his mouth as he suddenly realized that she had rolled on top of him.

Sara was tired to fight these feelings she felt ever since she met Michael in Fox River, she didn't care about all the fighting and all that had happened, she had never felt safer than into his arms and she had never felt more free than right now.

She felt his hands gently grabbing her hips as her hands slipped under his shirt.

That's when they heard a knock on the door.

"Jesus I'm going to kill your brother," Sara spoke, her words half-articulated against Michael's lips.

"Not if I kill him first," Michael said between his teeth.

That bastard; he was starting to reconsider breaking him out of prison.

With a sigh, Sara got up and went to open the door.

"What?" She spat at Lincoln's face, willingly showing her irritation.

"Jeez," he said, "always that nice when you wake up?"

"I wasn't actually sleeping." The words slipped out of her mouth and by the time she'd realized how they might sound, Lincoln was already grinning. "Hum..." she tried to think of something to make up for it.

"It's okay," Lincoln stifled a chuckle, "you two deserved it."

"It's not what you think." Like he'd believe that.

"Anyway, sorry to interrupt. But we're leaving."

"Leaving... Oh. Sunnydale, right."

"Don't complain," Lincoln mocked, "that way you can get your own bedroom all for yourself." She glared at him and he had nerves to smirk. "Bet you don't want to leave anymore, do you?"

"Out!" She said, slamming the door, deciding that she was glad her parents never gave her a brother or sister after all.

She sighed and turned to face a very disappointed Michael.

"Any chance he was just checking on us?" He almost sounded genuinely hoping.

"Sorry," she said for an answer.

Now that the moment was gone, she suddenly felt a little embarrassed about jumping on him earlier. She felt herself blush as she ran her hand through her auburn hair.

"Hum..." she said, "I... I'm just going to..."

Without adding another word, she aimed for the door and didn't look back. Michael let himself crash on the bed with a huge grin on his face.

"I so love you," he finished for himself the sentence she'd cut short with a fiery kiss.

...

Sara quickly dried her hair after hitting the shower and getting dressed. She couldn't help but biting her lip nervously as she thought about how Michael and her left things. It sounded so unreal she had trouble to believe it had really happened. But she did remember how she felt at this moment, as if all their fighting was so stupid because none of it mattered. Nothing else mattered...

But after all that had been going on in her life, she wasn't sure she was even ready to be in a relationship.

She sighed, mentally thinking that if he jumped on her and kissed her the second she walked out that door she oughtn't be surprised, she'd jumped on him first. She buried her face in her face with embarrassment. She had jumped on him, god what was she thinking? She'd let herself be distracted by his hypnotizing blue eyes and that slight square of tattooed skin that had been discovered as the helm of his tee-shirt had rolled up in their haste; but it could not happen again.

"Sara?" She heard a knock on the door and recognized Michael's soft voice, "Sara, we really need to go."

"I'll be right here," she said before looking into the mirror and right into her eyes.

She looked at her trying to see a fighter here.

"Put yourself together," she said before opening the door and joining the rest of the team.

...

Once they checked out of the motel, Sara saw Lincoln taking the driver seat and Paul sitting next to him. She could see he had bruises on his face but didn't even manage to feel good about it.

She sat next to Michael on the backseat and pretended to look at the landscape so she didn't have to look at him.

"So Sara," Paul said in his usual tone, "rough night?"

She lowered her eyes. Asshole. She was seriously starting to wonder how she ever managed to believe he was just a nice harmless man.

"Coming from the one who's had his ass kicked that's almost funny," she said before Michael had the time to tell him to shut up.

"Right, that," Kellerman laughed, "your boyfriend's trying to look like the violent bad boy, he must think it looks cool or something."

"He kicked your ass, just face it," Lincoln said.

"It's not like I couldn't have done something," Paul said honest, "but I figured that we couldn't work together as long as he didn't get it out of his system."

"If I'd had you'd be dead," Michael said, his fists tightening.

His hands only loosened when Sara enrobed them with hers, forgetting all about her fear to face him earlier. Suddenly it was like reality was gone again, like they were the two only persons left on the planet.

She let her hand slip around his neck, obliviously letting go of every doubt and question that tormented her this morning as she slowly moved his face closer to hers and put a soft, sweet kiss on his lips.

Paul couldn't stop looking at the rearview mirror. He considered an eye-roll, or some dubious comment only meant to discourage them, although he instead found himself strangely - silent, for a few seconds.

It didn't take long for Sara to pull away still, for her to remember that she'd rather kiss Michael when that creep Kellerman wasn't around.

Michael merely glanced at the small mirror to meet Kellerman's eyes. "Look at her again and I won't only kick your ass." He warned with extreme serious.

Paul forced out a chuckle but said nothing.

He both felt like a wounded man and a sulking kid. And he moistened his lips, almost unconsciously.

It wasn't that dangerous to wonder what her kisses might feel like - taste like - regardless how horribly, horribly wrong it was to let the thought linger. Not dangerous, just a bit deranged, twisted, probably perverted. Nothing out of his range, until the word daydreaming grazed him. Daydreaming about kissing Sara Tancredi - or any other girl for that matter - could not be good.

Truth be told, Kellerman kind of liked teasing Michael about how he liked his girlfriend and found her very much to his taste, but the impression that Michael truly had no idea of just how much Kellerman liked her was starting to grow dangerously, and if the true blew up in their faces, well - it couldn't be good either.

'Relax,' he thought to himself. She was just a girl. Fine, a pretty girl, but Paul Kellerman was not the type to mistake shining glass for diamond; she was just a woman, a woman very much alike all these innocent women he had no remorse in killing, so why should she be any different? What should there be anything special - different - about her?

He dared another glance into the mirror and found himself oddly regretting it as his eyes met hers.

He saw the fear in her eyes and felt the curious need to apologize to her, to tell her he was sorry, even if the word would never enter his vocabulary. Just to try it on, maybe; just so that she'd stop looking so scared. He wanted to apologize, fine, and then say what? That he was sorry for being so cold, so merciless, to wear a mask of stone because it was all he could think of that was stronger than the weakness she made him feel?

And he hated it, he hated feeling weak and powerless, so instead he teased her and pretended he didn't care about hurting her, he came knocking on her door finding any excuse because he had trouble staying away, he was forcing himself to think of her as his prey so that she was playing the weak part - so that he didn't have to actually see a woman. Perhaps for some reason, that would be more scary than anything else he could make himself see.

Sara was frightened for a second when she saw Kellerman watching her in the rearview mirror.

What the hell was he looking at?

...

They finally got to the spot where the jet was waiting for them. Michael shared an excited look with Sara; that jet looked a hell lot like freedom.

"What do we do about the car once we're gone?" Kellerman asked; any excuse was good to pretend not to see the knowing-warm-lovers glance the couple exchanged.

"We just leave it here," Linc said, categorical.

Paul couldn't help laughing. "They're going to know we took a plane." He warned.

"Well the sky's a big place." Lincoln did nothing to hide his annoyance and Paul didn't insist.

Lincoln got out of the car and walked towards a man standing next to the jet.

"That's Lincoln's guy?" Sara inquired, staring back into Michael's eyes, trying to keep to herself the thought that she hadn't pictured said 'guy' quite so handsome.

"Apparently," Michael said, not without noticing Sara's interest.

"What?" She defended at Michael's insisting blue gaze, lowering her tone. "You're not going to deny that he's cute, are you?"

The guy had brown-blond hair and green eyes, and if he was a bit taller than Michael his shoulders weren't quite as broad.

"Hey Vaughn," Linc said shaking the man's hand.

"Hey man."

"So," Lincoln said, "you're still with Sidney?"

"Yeah, he said raising his left hand to make the wedding ring more visible, "two years next month."

"Congratulations man," Lincoln smiled.

"And you're still with Veronica?" Vaughn asked.

Lincoln's smile faded to the mention of his childhood sweetheart. Vaughn guessed the answer.

"I'm sorry," he spoke gravely.

Lincoln shook his head.

"So," Michael said as he walked out of the door, his hand firmly put over Sara's. "I guess we can't thank you enough for what you're doing for us."

"Hey," Vaughn said, "don't mention it, I want these people exposed and in prison just as much as you do."

"Yeah," Michael said his eyes slipping towards Kellerman's direction, "can you imagine what kind of human being could work for these people?"

"I don't think they can qualify themselves of 'human'," Vaughn said in visible disgust.

Paul didn't object and he didn't blame Michael for pointing this one out.

Sara thought Kellerman was going to put on that smirk and reply immediately, though didn't. For the first time in her life Sara saw him differently. Silent, without his smirk and his attitude, he strangely looked different. Probably closer to human than she'd ever seen him before.

She gulped as she tried to swallow the tight knot in her throat; she wanted to think of Kellerman as a ruthless sadist monster, not as a human being capable of having feelings.

"Sometimes people just choose wrong," she heard herself say as Kellerman glanced at her in surprise.

He didn't expect her to speak in his defense.

"Anyway," Vaughn said, "the pilot will get you to an empty parking lot, so the plane can land, there'll be a cab waiting for you there, I know the guy since always, you can trust him to get you to the safe house."

"Thanks again, man," Linc said.

"Yeah, thanks," Sara said, genuinely grateful.

"My pleasure," Vaughn said with a friendly smile. After he'd glanced at Sara his eyes remained set on her. "And you must be the girl Mike can't stop talking about..." Vaughn started with a smile.

"Okay we really need to go," Michael tried to change the subject.

"Sara, right?" Vaughn said.

"Yes."

"You're just as pretty as he said you were."

Sara smiled for an answer.

Kellerman looked away, halfway through disgust and plain irritation. What was she doing? Keeping a collection under her princess pink-sheeted bed?

"Well anyway," Vaughn said, "you should all get going now, good to see you again Linc, Mike, and nice to know you Sara."

"Nice to know you."

Paul noticed that he wasn't the only one upset by the new "bonding" between Vaughn and the young doctor.

Michael put his arm around Sara very quickly and got her closer to him.

"We should get going really," he said.

"Okay, Sara said with a last look toward Vaughn, "thank you again."

Michael mumbled something like "whatever" before he got in the jet, his arm around Sara like a protecting cage.

Jesus, did she not see the risks? Michael thought pouting. He was just looking after her is all, since apparently she couldn't even walk in the streets without flirting with disaster - disaster, vampire, handsome guy - what was the difference?

...

The jet was big enough for five including the pilot, there were four seats, Michael sat next to Sara. And Lincoln wasn't really excited about seating next to Paul.

Sara watched the landscape as the plane slowly took off.

She smiled, amazed.

"It's beautiful," she said turning to Michael.

He had this cute laugh that made Sara feel like she had butterflies in her stomach.

"You're beautiful," he replied.

Sara just stared at Michael, moved.

"What?" Michael asked with a little smile, almost awkward.

She shook her head still with the same little smile. "Nothing, it's just..." She laughed, embarrassed. "No one ever told me I was beautiful."

"What?" He said.

"Stop it it's true," she blushed.

"Like hell it is."

"I mean it," she adopted a more serious tone. "My ex-boyfriends used to tell me that I was sexy, or that I was hot, just... beautiful is a first."

Michael just stared at her as if she was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Which she was.

"What are they blind?" He said very serious and still not stopping to look at her.

She looked at him for a second before gently grabbing his neck and getting her face closer to his. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, all delicate and tender; a thankyou kiss.

Paul watched them from the other side of the plane. He let out a mocking chuckle to hide his jealousy.

"Something amusing you?" Lincoln said.

Paul didn't answer right away as he kept staring at Sara kissing Michael. For a short second, he wondered which brother was more annoying.

"No." He finally answered.

"Then what are you laughing about?"

"Just find it amusing that your brother's girlfriend..." Strangely, the word 'girlfriend' was difficult to say. "... still buys every word he says to her, after all the lying that is."

Lincoln just stared at him without blinking.

"I mean, come on," Paul said feeling like he had to break the silence, "is she for real? The guy just says some compliment and that's what he gets?"

Lincoln continued his staring.

"I truly hope that you're not jealous," he finally said.

There was no irony in his tone.

"Wh... what?" Paul said, laughing, "jealous? Of your brother? Because he's playing husband and wife with Tancredi? Oh please, don't insult me, some of us still have some dignity, you know."

Paul was a good liar, a very good liar and he knew it. But this time he wasn't good enough.

"Good," Lincoln said still serious. He didn't buy any of it. "Because it would be a really bad thing if you secretly wanted to play husband and wife with her yourself."

Paul chose the best way he knew to protect himself: attack.

"Wouldn't be worse than if you wanted to," he replied with a smirk.

Lincoln felt his fists close instantly, he wanted to punch the guy's face. Ah, if they hadn't been on a jet.

Linc's weakness for Sara hadn't been hard to notice, not to Kellerman at least; it didn't take much, just a couple of lingering glances and that caring sliver in his green eyes. Paul figured now was a moment as good as any other to play that card.

"Listen to me, you twisted little man," Lincoln said his words full of venom, "unfortunately for you Michael has a quality I don't have."

"Brains?"

"Self-control," Lincoln ignored him, "see he manages to repress the urge to kill you every time he sees you, I won't. So just to be sure we understand each other, I'm going to make it a little clearer: if you ever even think about Sara that way, if one day I see you and you just happen to be looking at her, I will break your legs are we clear?"

Paul stood very calm before having a joyless laugh.

"That's a funny thing Burrows," he said, "the kind of things you're willing to do for her, it's actually admirable to be so devoted to your brother's girlfriend. But I can't help being a little bit confused. I understand why your brother is so concerned and protective over Sara, but what I don't get is why you are? I mean, what is she to you but your brother's girl?"

His voice was full of implying.

"Now," Paul continued, "it would be a shame if she started to be... more? No?"

Lincoln's nails dug into his palms but he remained silent. Kellerman's state of calm annoyed him beyond possible.

"You do your goddamn job and stay put in your place, Paul, alright?" Lincoln said admiring his own restrain.

"And you stay right in yours," Paul said in the same calm tone, "right?"

Michael softly stroked Sara's hair who had fallen asleep on his shoulder a half hour ago. He gently played with one of her auburn curls.

He just watched her sleep; they hadn't slept at all last night, and he was as tired as she was but he didn't want to miss this. Just watching her sleep... to just watch her sleep had suddenly become more precious than the sleep he so badly longed for. Sleep could always come later, he came to the conclusion when realizing he simply couldn't look away.

...

Sara was pretty sure she was in a dream. About ninety nine percent sure of it. Because if she wasn't in a dream, then she was back in Fox River's infirmary with Michael Scofield, and not being so professional about it either.

He was gently kissing her, running his hands over her back, then her neck.

Michael was shirtless and Sara skimmed her hand across his chest, her fingers following the trail of his tattoo, as if she were trying to see the real design through all that ink.

"I love you," she said as he started kissing her neck.

She suddenly felt Michael's fists close on her wrists.

That's when the situation reversed, Sara who was feeling perfect and safe a second ago now felt like she was trapped.

"Michael..." she uttered as his fist tighten their grip, "You're hurting me."

She couldn't look him in the eyes, his face was still buried in her neck.

"Michael!" She repeated, trying to free herself from his hold on her.

Michael stopped kissing her to look at her and she gasped from surprise and fear.

His face had turn into the face of her worse nightmare. Her torturer.

"I love you too." Kellerman said as Sara let out a scream.

Her scream tore through her as she woke up, panicked. She jumped and struggled when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Sara it's just me!" Michael yelled.

Sara just stood there, panting, still terrified by her nightmare.

"I..." she said.

Michael looked sorry as he noticed. "You're shaking."

"I... I'm sorry," she said as she started to cry.

He held her close to him.

"Shh..." he hushed peacefully, "it's alright, I'm here." She kept sobbing against his chest. "I got you," he stroked a hand through her hair. "I got you, honey, it's okay."

She managed to control the tears flowing down her face.

"I'm sorry," she repeated.

"It's okay, I'm here."

He put a light kiss on the top of her head before sticking her forehead to his.

She sniffed as he chased away her last tear with his finger. She had a questioning look when she looked around and realized that they were lying on a comfortable bed, in a spacious room.

"You fell asleep on the jet," he explained, "so I carried you here."

"How..." she said, "how long have I been asleep?"

"It's midnight," he said, "you slept all day."

"Oh. Why didn't you wake me? I -"

"You had been through a lot. You didn't sleep at all last night and you were attacked the day before. Considering everything you've been through in a week, I figured you needed some rest."

She didn't reply but looked towards him with a weak smile.

"You've been looking after me haven't you?" She said.

"I didn't want you to wake up alone," he said, "you would have been so lost. I mean, more than you are now."

She chuckled. Then she looked at him, more seriously.

"And hum," Sara said, "where's Linc?"

"Probably asleep."

"And Kellerman?" She said.

She had tried to say that word without emotions but she couldn't help her hand to lightly tremble when the word came out.

The nightmare she just had wasn't going to make it easier to face him.

"He'll stay in the first floor's bedroom," Michael said, clarifying before she could ask for specifications, "we're on the third floor right now."

Sara nodded; it weirdly comforted her to think that there was space between Paul and them. Of course, she would have preferred to think that he was miles and miles away, but that was not an option right now.

"So at least I won't be meeting him in the hallway," she said trying to find the good sides of this situation.

Michael couldn't help but say.

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's better than how it was yesterday right? I mean, plus when this Cooper Green guy finds a way to use the tape we gave him against the president, then she'll be exposed, and you and Linc will be free, and we won't need Kellerman anymore."

Michael nodded.

"Yeah, and then it'll just be, me and you and forever to come."

She couldn't help but smile.

"You mean, me, you, forever to come and Lincoln."

"Right," he said laughing.

For a moment, their peaceful laughter was the only sound in the room. Then everything was silent for a second.

"So, you must be starving, you want me to go get you something to eat from the kitchen ?"

"Sure," she said with a smile.

"I'll be right back," he said lightly brushing her cheek with his hand before he left.

Sara was left alone for a second. She shivered. That Kellerman nightmare scared her more than any other. No, she didn't even wanna think about it. She ran her hand through her messy hair.

That's when the thought hit her that she really must look like a mess. She spotted a mirror on the wall next to the door, so she got up and started brushing her hair with her fingers; it was a shame she didn't have make up, she could have gotten rid of the rings beneath her eyes in a second.

When she heard Michael's footsteps in the stairs, she hurried back on the bed, because she didn't want him to think that she was trying to look pretty for him. Which she was.

He knocked on the door before he opened.

"Hey," he said his arms full of food.

"Wouah," Sara said, "m&n's, cookies, chips, soda, you really want me to get fat anytime soon?"

"Oh please," Michael said with an eye-roll. "You of all women should not be concerned about that."

She chuckled as he joined her on the bed and dropped their supplies on the bed with him.

He opened a pack of cookies and gave her one. She took it and laughed.

"If you knew how long it's been since I had cookies," she said.

"Beats prison food," Michael said, putting a whole biscuit in his mouth.

She laughed. "I bet."

...

It was four soda bottles, five candy packs and three hours later.

"I think I'm having a sugar high," Sara said while biting in a red piece of liquorice.

"So am I, I barely slept since we escaped and I'm still not tired."

He raised his shoulders.

"It must be the rush."

"Or the sugar."

He laughed. She seemed so innocent, so fragile, he felt the sudden urge to hold her to him the closest he could to make sure that no one would hurt her.

"Or the sugar," he agreed with a smile.

Then they were silent again. The situation felt slightly awkward to Michael, he suddenly had the impression he was a teenager again; he was sitting on a bed with a gorgeous woman that he loved and yet he was too shy to make the first step.

Sara didn't know what to do or what to expect, because truth be told she had never spend the night with a man and just talked all night. She didn't really have experience in good guys, she had never experienced the whole embarrassing moment when you're sitting there with a guy you just love and you want to go further but you don't know what to do. This was new to her; Sara had a few serious relationships when she was still using, and she didn't have to go through that awkward moment because she was high and they just wanted to. It was easy. But this time it was different; this time it meant something.

"So," Michael began almost awkwardly. "You're not hungry anymore?"

She shook no.

"You're not tired?" He asked just to be sure.

"No," she said her voice as deep as his.

"Good," he said obviously feeling as embarrassed as she was.

She could help but chuckle.

"Wouah," she said, "you're really good at this."

"Come on give me break. I'm usually better at this than now, but I'm just stressed and tensed and... well it's been a while and... would you stop laughing?"

But she didn't and he joined her, finally feeling like the tension was gone.

"We shouldn't be this nervous, should we ?" Sara said, "I mean we're both adults, right ?"

She laughed again.

"And you make me feel like a teenager on a prom night you damned Michael Scofield."

"Well you weren't this nervous when you jumped on me," he said laughing.

"I knew this would come up."

He had a cute little laugh as she blushed. She looked so perfect to him.

"Come here," he said as he moved closer to her and held her to him.

Then it just happened, a second ago they were just looking right into each other's eyes and then they were kissing, letting out the passion that they tried to repress ever since they met in Fox River.

Sara could feel Michael's hand on her neck roll up to vanish in her silky auburn hair, everything felt so perfect, it felt more than just good, if felt right. Michael slowly lied her down beneath him, his hand moving from the back of her head to her waist. Their lips never separating.

Sara let her own hands slip underneath Michael's shirt, desperately searching for bare skin. It didn't take long before his shirt ended up on the floor.

She couldn't help but shivering when she saw Michael's bare chest, her nightmare coming back to her quickly. He didn't seem to notice her hesitation as his hand that was laying on her waist a second ago came stroking her inner thigh. If it felt wonderful a second ago, now it made her feel trapped.

"Michael," she said, her voice terrified like a mouse's squeak as his face disappeared in the crook of her neck. "Michael please," she felt tears well behind her eyes.

The young man noticed the panic in Sara's voice. He immediately stopped to look at her.

"What's the matter?" He asked when he saw the tears that were starting to flow on her cheeks.

"I..." she said, "I don't know, I'm sorry..."

She snuggled against his chest, sobbing.

"Hey," he said, "shh... it's okay, just talk to me, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything was so perfect... I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

He put a light kiss on her forehead.

"I always ruin it."

"Hey, don't you say that, you've been through so much..."

She didn't answer, hating what her naivety had put her through, hating this man for haunting her every time she felt safe.

She heard the vague sound of a door closing inside the house.

No, she wasn't safe. And he was just a few floors away.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: Okay, so I'm up to five chapters already; I'm aware that no one probably reads that story anymore and there's no point in revising it like this, but I'd still like for it to be at least possible to read for those who are interested :)

Sara woke up in Michael's arms while he was still sleeping, and she figured she might as well let him - he had deserved his sleep. She slowly got up without making a sound, and left the room.

It was still dark, Sara figured that it had to be around seven in the morning and that she was probably the only one awake yet. She noticed that the only room in the third floor was the bedroom Michael and her occupied, so she had to go down to the second floor to find a bathroom where she could shower. She finally found it. She leaned on the sink to drink some water. Then she spotted the bathtub; it seemed like it had been ages since she had taken a bath. She got the water running in the bathtub. That gesture made her go back to what she had gone through a week ago, when she was sitting, tied up to a chair, facing a bathtub filled with frozen water, similar to that one. In a quick gesture Sara stopped the water. She stood still for a while, hating herself for letting the hold that man had on her stop her from being able to do normal things. She sighed and closed her eyes. A shower would do just fine.

She undressed herself and let the hot water flow on her. She felt tears mixing with the water and she closed her eyes.

She hated him. She hated him with all her strength, but most of all she hated herself for believing his lies. She could picture it so easily, Lance and the foolish girl she was, having pie at her apartment; she had let him inside her home, inside her life, she had trusted him. All she could see behind her closed lids was that smiling naive girl she used to be. That woman seemed younger -as though what she had been through in a week had made her ten years older-, that woman was enjoying the friendship and the company of a man she should not have trusted, of a man who had showed no mercy upon her, and as if all he'd done weren't enough, there he still was, in her nightmares at night, and in the hallway during the day. There was no escape from him.

Sara let out a sob.

She wanted him out of her life, she never wanted to see that smirk on his face again, or worse, that almost sorry look he gave her each time whenever he was about to hurt her, whenever he wiped the water off her face, that look that was his way to show her that he cared. And that was what she hated the most about him, because he did not have the right to care, he did not have the right to feel sorry. It was too late for that. They were way passed apologies.

Sara cut the water and wrapped a towel around her body, before looking at her reflection in the mirror. She tried with all her strengths to see the fight inside her she had always been able to spot, even in her darkest times, that little spark of bravery and foolishness when she was facing danger. She searched for it desperately but that fire inside her was gone forever. For a few seconds, she wondered whether it had faded or burned out. It didn't make much of a difference now, anyway. Unless she chose to light it up again.

After putting some clothes on, Sara went down to the kitchen where she made some coffee. She felt herself regaining strength as the burning liquid flowed inside her mouth, burning her tongue in its way.

"Up so early?"

Kellerman's voice made her jump.

"I didn't mean to scare you." But his smile said otherwise.

She ignored him, trying not to think about her nightmare.

"You didn't," she lied.

He didn't buy a word of it. It made his grin widen slightly.

"Please," he said with a little laugh, "we can at least be honest with each other now."

"That's an odd request coming from you," she inwardly congratulated herself on her calm.

"Well, you wound me, Sara. I thought we were passed that now. Aren't we?"

His tone was light and humoristic, all in all it sounded like he was having a good time teasing her about her most painful memories.

She didn't answer right away.

"Why are you doing this?" She asked after a moment of silence. She wasn't the least bit interested in lingering on what she meant by 'this'. "Didn't you do enough already?"

He didn't answer at first; something in her voice had changed, he noticed that she didn't react like she was helpless in front of him anymore. He wasn't sure whether it was good or not, all he knew was that she was not just going to ignore him and be powerless and weak each time she saw him. Even though she was trying to look strong, something in her voice sounded empty; hollow. She wasn't as good as pretending as he was. That sadness in her tone could have almost made him feel for her, made him back off nicely and stay in his place. It was almost enough for him to let her win this, an early-morning-argument, because perhaps even though Paul Kellerman hated to lose, right now he hated to see this wounded pain in Sara's eyes just a little bit more. Even though she wasn't aware of it, she had power over him. Paul Kellerman had often did things he did not want to do, because some people had power over him, but it wasn't the same kind of power. If he did something for Sara, it would be because he wanted to. Actually, she had the worse kind of power of all against him: she had the power to make him change his mind. For her.

And he hated her for it, perhaps more than she would ever understand. Because if not hate, what could these feelings be?

"Why do you have to be like that?" She went on, still straightforward and not dancing around the pot, and he usually liked that about her - today, it meant she was done with all of this. The lies, the pretending and role-playing games. "Why can't you just leave me alone ?

Her tone was calm, but Sara knew it wouldn't stay this way. Each time she saw that man, she felt like she was about to break, and she got closer to it by the second. And this time, she could feel that she was really, really close to break.

"I am leaving you alone," he said with his same light and careless tone.

"No you're not," She persisted like a child, "you're... just stop being like this with me, all your jokes and comments? Don't you see that you get to me?"

He didn't answer; maybe he was just hoping that she would never see how much she got to him.

Sara knew she was exposing her weakness to him and she also knew that he could use it against her. Though as strangely as it seemed, she just hoped that he wouldn't.

"Why do you always do this? Just the thrill of it or something?" She didn't give him any time to answer. "And why tease Michael every time you see him? Are you trying to get killed?"

He laughed.

"No offense, but I'm not scared of your boyfriend."

"What did you say for him to beat you like that?" She asked ignoring him.

He ignored her question as well.

"I bet you're thrilled he hit me," he spoke with confidence, "I bet you love the idea of him breaking my face."

"No," she answered immediately.

Her answer surprised him, but he knew she was being honest; she couldn't manage to feel good about him being hurt, even though he had hurt her. Still hurt her every day, every second where he got the chance. She just wasn't this kind of person.

They didn't talk for a moment.

"What do you want Paul?" Sara finally asked.

He couldn't help but feeling himself shiver when she spoke his name.

"What are you hoping to gain from this?"

Her tone was torn between rage and pain.

"I'm not hoping to gain anything." Each word was spoken very slowly and clearly. It was true, for the first time in his life, he just really didn't know what he was doing or why.

"Than why are you doing this?" This was it, she thought, she was breaking. "And why are you always here behind me each time I turn around?"

She felt tears well behind her eyes.

Paul wasn't an emotional man, he wasn't the kind of man to be moved by a woman tearing up, but - her tears made something inside of him melt; he could almost picture it. Warm innocent tears landing against his frost-covered heart. Penetrating it. Melting it.

"Answer me!" She shouted.

She wanted an answer? He thought to himself, he'd give her one, he figured, but what should he start with? That he felt his legs carry him to her door and didn't know what to tell her once she opened it because he had no clue why he'd come? That she was him feel things that he never thought himself capable of feeling until he was proven wrong? That she'd found something in him that he didn't even know was there in the first place? That he'd never thought possible in his entire life to find so much kindness, beauty, warmth and generosity in one woman and be blinded by it? That he was trying to make her feel like he didn't care so that maybe he could believe it as well and wouldn't find himself wishing to take back all the pain he'd put her through?

And that he had done all of this why? In the name of Caroline Reynolds? In the name of love ? The irony didn't escape him.

Sara swallowed. She had let her emotions carry her away, and she had no idea where she'd found the nerves to yell at him. He looked different, angry? Sara felt like she had never seen him angry, even when he had questioned her, his eyes were gentle and tender, now something burned in those blue irises that scared her. But she didn't care. She strangely felt ready to take whatever her verbal explosion would lead to.

"I said..." She began, a bit calmer.

"I heard you." He interrupted.

He hadn't yelled, but his voice was sharp. Her eyes filled with tears again, and she hated every single traitorous drop.

"I don't know what you want me to say," he simply blurted.

Sara felt like it was the first time that she had seen him without him pretending to be somebody else, without him forcing himself to be nice or cruel; now he had dropped the masks.

"Really?" She tried to recover a bit of this raging determination that had put her through so much trouble already. "I thought I was pretty clear."

"What do you want to know Sara? Why I'm being a jerk? Maybe it's in my nature, what the hell do you know?"

"Fine!" She yelled back. "Then it's in your nature and you're just a jackass, but next time we meet in a room, don't talk to me!"

"Why not? Are you so afraid of me that you can't even stand words leaving my mouth?"

"I'm not scared of you!"

"No?!"

Sara suddenly realized her hands were shaking uncontrollably. Her breathing was irregular too. She swallowed, trying to keep her body under control.

"Sara..."

Kellerman took a step towards her.

"Don't touch me!"

She was still shaking, and Paul just stared at her. There was no anger in his eyes, there was something much worse; pity.

The slap left before Sara even had the time to think of stopping it; her hand was tickling from the strength of the it once it had happened. Paul's head turned from the hit. He turned his face back to her, the exact same look in his eyes. She hit him again, just as hard, and she obtained the same reaction. She hit him a third time. Her hand was numb. When Paul's face turned to her again, she realized that there was a difference between Kellerman faking angry and Kellerman extremely pissed off.

What she didn't know was that he wasn't angry about the slap; he was angry because he could have reacted, he could have hit back. But he wouldn't and he knew it; he wouldn't hit her. He wouldn't hurt her. Not anymore. That was what he was angry about.

Sara saw a spark of hatred burning in his eyes; she knew he wouldn't just walk away after that.

And he didn't.

He took a step towards her and she tried to hit him again, a mere attempt to keep him away, but his fists closed on her wrists almost immediately, leaving her helpless. She yelped slightly, both from surprise and pain, and he pushed her against the wall, holding both of her wrists prisoners in his strong hands.

He just looked at her for a second; her flaming locks of auburn hair scattered on her shoulders and reached her breast, her chocolate eyes were glowing brighter than stars. He had never seen her so beautiful.

Sara tried to struggle but Paul was holding her tight. She knew he was burning with rage, therefore she expected about anything from him. She expected him to hit her, she expected him to kill her, she expected close to everything except from his lips suddenly crushing hers.

Her eyes widened with surprise as Paul tongue searched for an entering in her mouth, bruising her lips.

She kicked him in the groin with her knee, making him let go of her hands.

She grazed her lips with her fingertips, too shocked to make a single sound.

"Sara..." He sounded about just as surprised as she was for some reason, and she figured she might as well get out of here before he came to his senses.

She ignored him and ran for the door, but he grabbed her hand, forcing her to stay.

"Let go of me you sick..."

She couldn't even find a decent insult.

"Sara wait...!" He started.

She punched him in the nose with her free hand and he let go of her. She ran to the front door but he shut it close the second she tried to open it.

"Sara stop!" He yelled as he grabbed her arm.

"Don't touch me!" She screamed.

"Hey!" A voice shouted.

Paul and Sara both turned to face Lincoln.

"It's not what it looks like..." Paul started.

"Let go of her right now."

His tone was calm but so harsh even Sara felt a little scared. Paul let go of her arm and she joined Lincoln. He took a step forward, facing Kellerman, putting Sara behind him protectively.

"What was he doing to you?" Lincoln asked Sara but his eyes were still on Kellerman.

For a few seconds she wasn't even sure what to answer. "Nothing."

This time he looked at her.

"Don't lie to me Sara."

"I'm not," she defended, still trying to clear her mind and realize what had happened.

"I said don't lie!" He was yelling but she knew he wasn't angry at her.

She was about to formulate a real answer but Kellerman was faster.

"I kissed her."

Lincoln slowly turned to him and everything was silent.

Sara was too shocked to react, because she was suddenly realizing it. He had kissed her. And the sudden fact that there were no other words for it felt greatly disturbing.

Lincoln's eyes grew wider from the rage.

"What did I say would happen if you so much as looked at her?"

"Linc..."

"You should go Sara," Lincoln interrupted.

And the worst part was she wanted to. She wanted nothing more than to run out that door and never think again of what had just happened.

"Yes," Paul said looking at her, "maybe you should go Sara."

"Don't tell me what to do," the disgust in her voice made him laugh.

"Sara," Lincoln interrupted, his voice metallically cold, "go."

His tone made it clear that it wasn't a request. Sara didn't wanna just obey as though she had to or something, but on the other hand she really, really wanted to leave.

She walked past Kellerman without even glancing at him while he grinned at her.

Paul's eyes followed her until she had left the room, and his eyes even remained a little bit on the door where she was standing an instant ago; he smiled thinking of how cute she was when she was angry. When his eyes turned back to Lincoln it was just to see a fist crash in his face.

Well, he'd deserved that much, he figured.

"Okay," he nodded, "so no talking, straight to the point, I like that."

Lincoln tried to hit him again but Paul avoided it.

"Really, it sounded worse than it was." Kellerman said, unable to repress a smirk - sometimes being a jackass was just too tempting. "Actually, skipping the punch-phase, it wasn't exactly bad at all. Pretty enjoyable even."

He expected Lincoln to jump on him, but he didn't. He was just standing there with a little smile.

"What?" Paul feigned disappointment, "You're not going to kill me to defend her honor?"

"No, I'm not going to kill you." The older brother answered with that same funny grin. "Because when Michael finds out about this, you're going to wish I had."

...

Sara got back to her room and shut the door a little too violently, though the annoyance and still fresh shock made it impossible for her to care.

"Hum?" Michael mumbled, waking up, and suddenly she remembered what time it was.

"Oh. Michael, I'm sorry!" She exclaimed, "I... I forgot you were still asleep, I..."

"Hey forget it," he whispered softly.

He opened his arms, inviting her to join him. She climbed on the bed slithered under the covers comfortably, almost forgetting about how dreadfully the morning had started.

"You okay?"

"Fine."

That was a terrible lie, she knew Michael didn't buy a word of it, but she just couldn't hide the nervousness in her voice.

"Did something happen?" He asked.

"No," she lied, "well... nothing serious it's just-"

"What happened?"

Well, for starters she was pretty sure Kellerman was getting slaughtered in the kitch, but that didn't sound like a good answer.

"I... hum... Nothing serious. I just don't wanna talk about it right now."

He still looked concerned. And he also looked incredibly good for someone who had just woken up.

"Okay," he said still worried, "but you'll talk to me about it later, promise?"

She nodded and snuggled against him even harder.

She sighed; everything was so perfect right now. Well would have been if her mind wasn't occupied with the taste of Kellerman's lips.

She swallowed, hoping with all her heart she wasn't going to be sick. And why shouldn't she? He had kissed her. On the mouth. With tongue. The best she could hope for right now was to not throw up on Michael.

"You're mind's somewhere else."

Talking about a genius.

"I'm fine." She tried to mean it, even kissed him lightly as a proof that she was okay. It was feather-light, nothing too dangerous she figured, until he kissed her back, softly, but more demanding than her kiss was. His hand ran through her hair as his kisses lowered to her neck, then to her cleavage. She moaned lightly. For a short instant she forgot about everything that had just happened; for all she knew it was just another bad dream, but when Michael's lips found hers again she suddenly remembered how vividly real it had been.

"Michael?" She said as his lips took the same path toward her lower neck.

"Hmm?" He didn't interrupt his task.

She didn't really want him to stop but her mind would be somewhere else, there was no doubt about that. Plus, the Kellerman kissing her thing was sort of a big turn off.

"I..." she managed as he slowly started to unbutton her shirt. "Could we just slow down for a sec?"

He stopped and looked at her.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no you were doing everything right, it's just..."

Just that she didn't want to do this now. Not with the taste of Kellerman's lips still inside her mouth.

"I just... I just have a lot on my mind right now and..."

"Sure, I... I understand, of course."

She could see how disappointed he was and how badly he was trying to hide it.

"You don't need to justify yourself," he said just as she opened her mouth. "It's okay Sara."

He tried to make her laugh.

"It's just that," he said with a shrug, "we may be hunted by professional killers, and you might be seeing vampires, I'm still a guy."

She laughed.

"And I'm still a girl," she took his hand in hers, recovering a bit of the complicity she'd missed so much after they'd left Fox River. "And I want to," her eyes slightly softened at the mention, "but..."

"What?" He said seeing how serious she was. "Sara, what happened?"

She bit her lip.

"Look, I'm gonna tell you, only if you promise me that you won't kill Kellerman."

...

"I'm not afraid of Scofield."

"Really?" Lincoln said, "Because I remember he nearly killed you after one stupid little comment you made about Sara's bedroom. I have the feeling this is going to be much worse."

Kellerman chuckled.

"He's not stupid enough to try and kill me."

"He's angry enough," Lincoln countered.

That's when they both heard quick loud footsteps hurrying down the stairs. Michael entered the room, slamming the door behind him.

"You." He spat, his eyes fixed on Kellerman as he pointed a furious finger at him.

"Michael!" Sara arrived behind him. "Michael you promised me that you wouldn't commit a murder..."

"Sara go back upstairs," Michael said, his eyes fixed on Kellerman.

"No, Michael." She countered, more firmly. "I'm not going anywhere." Partially because she didn't want her boyfriend to become a murder and because she was getting a bit tired of men telling her what to do and where to go.

"Look," Kellerman burst in, "I'm sure she made it sound much worse than it was..."

"How dare you?" Michael took a step closer to him as Sara's hand closed on his shoulder.

"We need him?" She was about desperate enough to attempt anything at this point. "Michael, you promised me that you'd stay calm..."

"Calm? How am I supposed to stay calm, Sara? He kissed you!"

Kellerman smirked. "She wanted to." As much as he hated to admit it, this was probably the most fun he'd had in weeks; the temptation of being a jerk was just irresistible.

Sara glared at Kellerman at his comment; what was he trying to do exactly, apart from literally throwing oil on the fire? She tightened her grip around Michael's shirt, trying to get him to at least look at her.

"Look," she said, "let's just all calm down alright?"

"Sara go upstairs please." Michael finally looked at her.

"No."

He begged her with his eyes.

"Whatever you're going to do," she warned, "you're going to do it with me watching."

She knew he wouldn't kill him, not in front of her. At least she hoped not.

"Actually," the second Kellerman opened his mouth, Sara knew she'd lost her shot at calming Michael. "It would be better if you left Sara." It was almost as though he was doing it on purpose.

"Don't you even say her name you bastard-"

"Michael, don't!" She reached out for his face with both hands until his blue eyes were lost in hers. "Look at me," she spoke softly.

The hate in Michael's eyes did not disappear, but after a few seconds it was no longer controlling him. "Sara," he said his voice calm but decided as he repeated himself for the last time. "Go back upstairs."

She hesitated.

"I'll be alright. I won't kill him, I promise."

His eyes went back to Kellerman and threw daggers at him.

"I just wanna make things clear." He finished, his eyes still on Kellerman as Sara reluctantly nodded and left the two brothers and Kellerman alone.

"Look..."

"You listen to me," Michael interrupted Kellerman. "I don't want you to be alone with Sara ever again, is that understood? Don't go near her, don't even think about her, and if you ever touch her against her will again, I will hurt you so much that you'll wish you were never born, do we understand each other?"

Paul grinned; all right, he could have been a nice boy and at least apologized, but the temptation to just to tease Michael and make him understand that he wasn't impressed at all was a little bit more attractive.

"Sure," he promised, and he could have almost sounded solemn if it wasn't for that smirk.

"I mean it," Michael said, more serious than Kellerman would have thought. "She's mine. So you keep your pervert impulses away from my girl. Forget her Paul. Or it will be the end of you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry, I'm taking my time revising all this, I'm not sure anyone still reads this but I feel bad about all the spelling mistakes and other errors for the ones who do. Just so you know, I'm French, and this was not only my first fanfic but the first story I ever wrote in English, so if anyone notices a mistake that I keep making and haven't corrected yet, I'd love you to tell me.**

**Apart from this, enjoy the story :)**

Sara was lying on her bed, waiting for Michael's return. She cracked open a sac of m&m and took a handful. Not a really healthy breakfast but right now, she didn't care. Right now, she just wanted to pass the taste of Kellerman's tongue.

The thought made her shiver.

The door suddenly opened and Michael entered.

"Hey." She greeted, a bit miserably as she tried to swallow the chocolate and tasty nuts without it leaving traces on her teeth.

He smiled with the kind of smile that made her wonder why she stopped him from unbuttoning her shirt earlier.

He couldn't help but grin looking at her. With her mouth full and candies and her cheeks flushed red, he was positive that she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He joined her on the bed as she swallowed the candies she had in her mouth.

"Hey," he said back, sitting next to her.

"Yeah," she chuckled nervously, "sorry about that, I just thought you'd be downstairs for a while, and hum... I was hungry..." Hungry wasn't exactly the word for it but she didn't want to bring Kellerman back on the table.

"Don't apologize for that please," he smiled, "I think you look adorable."

"Right," though he couldn't have convinced her much because she was back to blushing.

He ignored it and put a light kiss on her lips. He moved back quickly and didn't let the kiss linger cause he knew she wasn't really in the mood for this, so instead he played with her locks of auburn hair, gently putting it behind her ear, stroking her cheek on the way.

"So," she said, "did someone die down there ?"

He chuckled without humor. "I wish. If I hadn't made a promise to you I'm not sure I could have held back from killing that sick pervert."

Somehow that title didn't suit at all the image Sara had of Kellerman in her mind, but it made it a bit more reassuring too - at least it put a name for what had happened downstairs.

She took his hand from her cheek and she gently kissed it.

"Instead I just gave him a warning," he went on, "but if he ever tries something like that again, you won't stop me from killing him." He was smiling slightly, still tender even at the mention and she couldn't hold back from observing.

"I thought we needed him," she said, noticing the bitterness in her own tone. She wished it back instantly, worried for a few seconds as she looked in Michael's eyes, almost relieved to find anger in them. Blind anger. Too blind for him to have noticed.

"Yeah we do," he said, "but I mean..." Sara bonded her fingers with him in an attempt to calm him but he was just furious. "How dare he? I mean first he traumatizes you, then he forces himself on you?"

"I think the urge to spit every five seconds is never going away."

"Don't worry anyway, he won't go near you again, I think he just did it to see how I'd react, to test my limits. He's about to find them."

Sara didn't answer. She personally didn't think that the kiss had anything to do with Michael, truth be told it didn't really seem like Kellerman had planned this, any of it, it was more like it had simply - happened.

Maybe she liked Michael's theory better.

...

Sara spend the whole day in her room; she really didn't want to risk seeing Kellerman today, even though Michael had promised that he'd stay away from her.

"You know we'll have to leave this room one day," Michael joked while slowly stroking Sara's hair.

She was snuggled against him, her eyes closed, a happy little smile on her lips.

"I don't want to," she protested, resting her head against his chest again.

Truth was if there was a room she could be in forever she wouldn't mind it being this one. After everything she'd been through in her life, everything she'd put herself through to make her father feel guilty - because guilt and shame are better than nothing - and all the rush of the escape, after all the bad things that had happened, to be here in this room made her feel like things were finally becoming to make sense.

Like it was all finally worth it.

She was basically lying on top of him, and he held her tight with one hand so she shouldn't lose balance while casually stroking her hair with the other.

"It's not like he's gonna dare make any comments about it," Michael assured her, "I think he'll try to stay in his place for once."

"I just don't want to leave."

Her hands on his chest lowered slowly until they reached his belly button then went back up only to take the same path again. His hand that rested on her waist went up to gently grab her neck. She gasped when without a warning he rolled on top of her holding both of her wrists in his hands, a smile on his lips.

He started kissing her cleavage as his hands released her wrist to cup her breasts, making her breathing uneven. Her hands slipped under his shirt and quickly removed the barrier, Michael threw it behind his shoulder without caring where it landed.

Sara kissed his inked flesh, wherever her mouth could reach as he pursued the work he was doing with his kisses. His hands slowly lowered to slip under her shirt, just enough to feel her stomach. She gasped, a silent scream escaping her lips. He stopped kissing her to remove her top and she didn't stop him but she suddenly realized how far the situation was going.

"Michael, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

She stopped arguing. It didn't really feel like she possessed any arguments now anyway. She couldn't change the situation now anyway, they were too far gone, she couldn't help her hands when they started undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. She needed him now.

Sara jumped when the door opened and Lincoln walked in without knocking.

"Lincoln jeez!" Michael yelled at him as Sara pulled the blankets to cover herself.

If she could hide under the bed right now she was rather positive she would.

"You could knock."

"Sorry," Lincoln said covering his eyes, almost boyish. "Really sorry, I didn't know I was interrupting anything."

Michael literally felt like slamming the door at his brother's face. That was the second time he ruined things for him and Sara.

"Hum..." Lincoln said embarrassed, "Mike can I talk to you?"

Michael sighed angrily before turning toward Sara. "I'll be right back."

"Sure," she said, "hum... I'm just gonna go down stairs and... cook something."

Dinner time was coming and Michael and her had both skipped lunch, and she was starting to be hungry.

"Alright," he said as she put her shirt back on.

She blushed as she passed by Lincoln and he didn't even dare to look at her.

"Thank you for that man," Michael said giving his brother a dreadful look.

"Sorry," Lincoln said, ashamed, "how was I supposed to know the two of you were going to hit it off like that?"

"What's that even supposed to mean?"

"Well, after the whole kissing thing with Kellerman. Plus, you know how you two are, barely even hold hands in public." At some point he had to realize he was not making this better. "Sorry."

"Whatever," Michael mumbled, "what did you wanna tell me about? Wait. First tell me. Good news or bad news?"

Lincoln hesitated. "Both."

...

Sara started to peel onions after lighting the oven.

"Well aren't you a regular housewife." Paul said, laughing.

She unwillingly gasped at the sound of his voice. Truth was she didn't even think he'd get the nerves to look at her after this morning. She was distracted enough to nip her finger with the knife in her hand.

"Damn it," she muttered, and Kellerman wasn't sure whether it was because of the shallow cut on her finger or because he stepped inside the room.

"You hurt?" He asked, "Let me see."

"No. No, get the hell away from me," she said, ignoring him as she went back to her task.

"That's what I came to talk to you about," he said, and he spoke so genuinely that for a second, despite the grin on his lips, she almost felt like he was worth listening for. "Look," he began, "I know I shouldn't have kissed you this morning..." His grin widened. "Not that I regret or anything..."

She felt rage boiled inside of her.

"Get out," she said throwing him the onion skin she had peeled of the vegetable.

He avoided it, laughing. He found something irresistible to her when she was angry, like a stubborn child.

"You should go," as though he'd listen, "Michael told you what would happen if you didn't stay away."

"I'm not doing anything wrong," he protested, "this is just talking."

She faked a smile. "Well, if you don't go right now we'll be having a totally different conversation."

Her persistence made him smile. "Can I help with the cooking?" He asked.

"Sure, why don't you put your head inside the oven?"

He just laughed and sat in front of her before starting to cut the tomatoes she had put on the table.

She couldn't believe it. He was not serious about this.

"Hey, I told you to leave." She did her best to sound authoritarian.

"Oh please," he faintly rolled his eyes, as though bored. "You're being unreasonable."

And he annoyed her so much she couldn't even remember to sound calm. "I'm being unreasonable?!"

He smiled. It was the reaction he had hoped for.

"Just calm down Sara," he said knowing she wouldn't.

"Look," she said furious, "just get out of here and I won't tell Michael you talked to me."

He grinned and stopped cutting the vegetables in front of him.

"What?" She said with rage.

"'I won't tell Michael you talked to me'" ?" He echoed, "really? Do you absolutely need him to stand up for yourself?"

She sighed trying to evacuate the rage of her body.

"Look," she said, "I don't know what kind of sick ok pleasure you're taking from this situation but just get your kicks someway else and leave me alone."

He reported his attention on the tomato he was cutting, not looking impressed one bit.

Actually he was impressed. Sara intrigued him, she made him come back even when he knew he shouldn't, he just wasn't able to stay away from her, she was so determined, strong, she had quite a temper too. And he loved all that about her, but he knew that he would never be allowed to show her love, or tenderness, and these moments of tormenting her were all he would get, so no, he wouldn't just leave her alone.

"Hello?" She said, "did you hear me? I said get out!"

"I heard you," he said, not looking at her.

He finished with the tomatoes and started peeling a potato.

"Fine," she said getting up. "Then I'll leave, you can just finish cooking."

She was willing to let him win and walk away before he talked again.

"Oh and by the way," he said when she was standing at only an inch to the door, "I'd suggest a lock."

She let out sigh. She did not want to take the bait, but curiosity won her over. "Excuse me?"

"A lock," he repeated looking at her this time, "that way Lincoln wouldn't interrupt so much and you and Scofield can get some action going on."

He laughed seeing Sara just standing there.

"Yeah," he said, "thin walls."

...

"What are you saying?" Michael asked.

"Look Mike," Linc said, "I did some research when we got here, especially after what Sara said about what attacked her."

"That it was a vampire?" Michael said, "What does that have to do with Sunnydale?"

"Well you're not gonna believe this but, apparently Sunnydale has been prone to multiple similar attacks. Body found entirely drained of blood, and some really weird shit too. Like this school teacher that's been eaten by hyenas. HYENAS, Mike."

"I still don't see the point."

"What I'm saying is that I know what Sara said sounds crazy - but maybe she's right."

"You're not serious."

"Actually I am," his brother persisted.

He sighed.

"Bro I think we moved into the hell of a freak show."

...

Sara just stood there, her mouth wide open. She couldn't believe that he had dared this kind of comments. It was low, even for him.

Kellerman laughed at her reaction.

He started cutting his potato, still laughing, and he really didn't see it coming when an egg crashed on his head.

After freezing, recovering from the initial shock, he reacted in a very mature way. He slowly got up to face Sara who still held the egg box. She had thrown at him the first thing that came to her mind.

The both remained silent, before Kellerman grabbed the flour pack on the counter and poured it on her. She let go of the eggs by surprise before she pushed him away and defended with some brown sugar she threw at him.

"How dare you?" She said. And it was a miracle that covered in floor she still managed to sound serious and outraged.

"Hey, you threw an egg at me!" He reminded, "what are you eight ?" It was his only argument apart from 'you started it' and he really didn't want to feel more like a child than he already did.

She ignored him and threw cottage cheese at him that she grabbed from the fridge.

He seized the oil bottle. "You're going to regret that move Tancredi."

He ended up pouring almost the entire bottle on her but she managed to get even with some vinegar.

"Okay truce! Stop!" She yelled entirely covered in food.

She tried to run her hand through her hair to check on the damage. For Christ's sakes, they were two reasonable adults, more than that, she was a once respected professional doctor and he an agent from government. Government. How on earth had things escalated to a food fight?

"Damn, you're crazy." She muttered to herself.

"You started it!" He didn't think of holding back his argument. How much more childish could this get anyway? "You broke an egg on my head." And nobody broke eggs on Paul Kellerman's head.

"You deserved it!"

He could have denied that he did, instead he decided to sting the needle on more sensitive spot. "You're just pissed because I heard Michael and you make out."

She fled the question, but he was rewarded by the slight shade of pink her cheeks took. "Are you stalking me now?"

"I just overheard," he defended. "Which I wouldn't have if you weren't so loud."

She couldn't help throwing a fist full of flour at him. That just made him laugh. Maybe he was more in the mood for teasing than tormenting now.

"You sounded like you were having fun anyway, Sara," he added.

"There is no way you heard that from the first floor," she said changing the subject, "you are stalking me."

"No I'm not, the bathroom's just under your bedroom. I was just taking a shower."

"Well -" Out of argument, she couldn't think of anything to add other then. "Now, you'll just have to take another one."

Had she really just said that?

"You think?" He spoke ironically before she walked away and slammed the door.

He was silent for a second.

"Guess I'm doing the cleaning then," he said to himself.

...

"Do you think we should talk to her about it?" Linc asked.

"Well..." Michael said, "I don't know, maybe she just never wants to think about all this again."

"And maybe she'd be relieved to know that she's not crazy," Lincoln said.

"But come on Lincoln," Michael said, "we're talking about vampires here, how can it not be crazy?"

"Apparently in this town," Lincoln pursued, "no one thinks it is."

Michael sighed, he just missed the time when he knew for sure that vampires were a myth.

"Look," Lincoln said, "Sara said that whoever attacked her had power over her, he could make her do whatever he wanted."

"But that's just crazy!" Michael persisted.

"Yeah I think so too!" Lincoln defended, but Sara had absolutely no marks of any struggle! And I don't know for you but if something was trying to eat my neck I'd be fighting back a little bit."

"Maybe she was just scared," Michael said, "maybe she was just paralyzed by fear."

"Look bro," Lincoln said, "I know you're looking for the logical explanation, and trust me so am I, but all I'm saying is that in this town..."

He shook his head.

"I think there is no logical explanation," he finished.

Michael sighed, he just wanted to never think about all this again.

"Look," he said, "I... I'm just gonna go check on Sara alright?"

He went down by the stairs, his brother following him.

"All that I'm saying is that you should just consider that..."

They both stopped talking when they ran into one covered in food Sara.

"Whoa..." Lincoln said.

"What the hell happened to you?" Michael asked. He even managed to sound slightly worried.

Sara sighed, she had hoped not to run into anyone in her way to the shower.

"What?" She acted as though everything was perfectly in order. "You've never seen a girl cook before?"

She passed by them and walked as fast as she could toward the bathroom.

She undressed quickly, throwing her dirty clothes in the washing machine, then turning on the hot water. She washed her hair, but the oil Kellerman through at her just didn't seem to wash away. She stayed in the shower for three quaters of an hour, then she wrapped a towel around herself and quickly dried her hair. In the end she had managed to wash all the mixture that the oil and the flour had created off her.

She heard a knock on the door. Kellerman didn't wait for an answer to enter the room.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sara said tightening the towel around her uncovered body.

"Taking a shower," he said, "you've been in there forever and I need to wash too."

"Well wait your turn!" She said, "unless you didn't notice I'm in a towel.'

He grinned. "I don't mind the least."

She pushed him out with one hand, holding the towel with the other one.

"You can shower when I'm done," she said.

"Fine. You know I actually thought you were finished, the water had stopped running."

"Whatever," she mumbled, "I saved you some hot water."

He eyed at her and she didn't understand what that smile meant until he spoke.

"Oh that's nice, but I won't be using any."

She rolled her eyes up disgusted and slammed the door in his face.

...

Sara went down the stairs, rambling angry words about Kellerman. She went to the living room and crashed on the sofa.

She sighed heavily.

"You okay?" Lincoln asked as he sat next to her.

"Sure," she lied.

"Hey look," he said, "I got some news from Cooper Green, apparently they think we've got some serious evidence there."

"It proves that you're innocent?" She asked.

"It at least proves that the President's guilty. That's already something."

"That's great Linc," she said.

He , but... all I'm saying is that soon we won't need that asshole anymore, and..."

She looked away.

"Look Sara," he said, "I can't begin to imagine what you've been through, and I know that it's hard on you, with him around and all, but it won't always be like this."

She smiled.

"You sound like Michael," she said.

"Really?" He joked, "must mean I'm growing a brain."

She had a weak laugh. He gently put his hand on her arm, imitating the gesture she had done when he was on death row in Fox River, but now she was the one who needed comforting.

"It's gonna be okay, Sare."

She smiled. "No one has called me "Sare" since high school."

"Are you questioning my mentality?" He said joking, "I'm offended!"

She laughed again and he smiled.

"Look," he said, "all I'm saying is that you're more than just my brother's girlfriend, all right ? I care about you, and I'm here for you."

She smiled looking into his deep green eyes.

"Thank you," she said.

He nodded.

"No problem," he said, "and don't worry about Kellerman, he won't even dare a comment after what happened."

She laughed, but this time she wasn't amused.

"I wish," she mumbled to herself.

"What was that?" He said.

She didn't have the time to answer cause the doorbell rang. They exchanged looks.

"Who do you think it could be?" She asked.

"Don't know," he said.

They heard some footsteps as Michael went down the stairs and opened the door.

Sara joined Michael, curious. When Michael opened the door, they could both see a young girl, she had blond hair, and big blue eyes, she was carrying muffins.

"Hi," she said with a smile, "I'm Buffy Summers, welcome to the neighborhood."


	8. Chapter 8

Back in Mystic Falls, Stefan Salvatore was waiting in some secluded spot, in the forest, where Klaus had ordered him to wait.

Nicklaus was the oldest vampire of all times, an original, or so they were called; Stefan was his friend, decades ago, back when there wasn't an ounce of humanity left inside him, but now, the only thing left that bounded Stefan to him was that Klaus had ordered him to do anything he asked.

Something short of a slave, or so.

Stefan went to look for Klaus himself a few months ago, because his brother Damon was dying, and only Klaus could save him, and now things had gone out of hands. The worse thing was that Stefan didn't do this sacrifice for his brother, he did it for Elena. Elena... The simple thought of her name was too painful for Stefan to think about. He had seen her, a few days ago, after he fed on that girl, he could see so much pain in Elena's eyes, so much... disappointment. It didn't take him long to escape and leave town of course, but Stefan didn't really want to leave. He wanted to stay as long as he could but Klaus wanted to meet with him, so he had to escape. Even though it broke his dead and un-beating heart.

"Stefan," Klaus greeted, as he finally arrived. "I'm glad you made it."

"Let's skip the small talk, shall we?" Stefan spoke dryly – he had no intention to make this last any longer than it should.

"All right," Klaus feigned disappointment, "I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm but..." He shrugged. "Anyway, you know how I've been trying to create more hybrids ?"

"Yes I'm aware," Stefan nodded, "and I'm assuming that there is a purpose to that, that you're not doing it just for fun ?"

"Indeed you're right," Klaus pretended not to hear the sarcasm in his voice. "I'm creating more hybrids because there is a war coming."

"A war ?" Stefan frowned.

"Yes," Klaus smiled, "a war where the forces of all evil will reunite and fight in order to dominate this world."

Stefan gulped. He had no intention whatsoever to help that crazy bastard dominate the world, in fact even though considering all the maniacs he'd met in the past year, he was positive he could not imagine worse leader.

"Sounds like fun." Stefan lied.

Klaus grinned. "I'm glad you think so, because I don't intend to let this war happen without me in it." Stefan didn't answer. The vampire pursued. "My friend, we have a chance to show the entire world who we truly are. The whole planet will know about us, and whether they accept us or fear us leaves me entirely indifferent."

Stefan sighed, and tried, even though he knew it was vain, to talk some sense into Klaus. "This is more dangerous than you think Klaus. We're talking about a World War III where Lycans, vampires and witches would all fight against he human race?

"Exactly. This is why very soon now, everyone will have to chose a side." He tilted his head slightly. "And I'm not one to brag, but I'd say right now, my side is about the safest one to be on."

Stefan knew he wouldn't be able to change Klaus's mind, he also knew that he wouldn't have a choice. He would have to fight in this war, and if Klaus were to win, the entire world as they knew it would change; humans would be turned into slaves, meals or entertainment for vampires.

"Well I wish I had the time to make you more excited about all this," Klaus said, "but we don't have time. We're going to Sunnydale, today."

"Sunnydale?" Stefan echoed.

"Where the war will take place. I hear this town is located on top of the hell mouth. And no, it's not metaphorically."

Stefan sighed. "So how big is this thing really?"

Klaus knew that Stefan just hoped that Elena would be left out of all this, that maybe, for some reason, Mystic Falls wouldn't be on the path of the tornado.

Klaus only spoke two words, as his lips curved into a devilish grin. "World big."

Stefan felt the rage that had been dwelling inside of him for months, finally explode. "So basically, you're asking me to fight against everyone I've ever loved?"

"Oh, would you please stop complaining? It's embarrassing really."

"And what about this town, hum? Sunnydale," Stefan repeated the name Klaus had told him. "Do they even know that there's a war on?"

"Of course, I've heard that there's a big training going on. Slayers, witches, even a few vampire traitors that will need to be severely punished."

"So, you think they got a shot at winning?"

"Oh no," Klaus chuckled, destroying Stefan's last hope. "But I expect it will be very entertaining to watch them try."

...

"So, when did you guys arrive in town?" Buffy asked before drinking a sip of tea.

The four of them were sitting in the living room. Buffy seemed like a nice girl, to the three fugitives; there was just something odd about her.

"A few days ago," Sara answered for the group.

She was sitting next to Michael, whose arm was laced around her shoulders.

"How did you even know that they were new arrivers?" Lincoln asked, and Sara couldn't help but notice the suspicion in his voice – yet again, for some reason, any word that escaped Lincoln Burrows' mouth seemed to sound suspicious.

Buffy answered with a shrug. "Small town, as soon as something happens here, everyone knows."

Well, that was good news, Sara couldn't help but make an inward sarcastic observation.

"Is that right?" Michael said, laughing.

It was just laughter – more of a simple chuckle, actually – yet all the sudden, young Buffy Summers didn't look like an innocent neighbor being polite. In fact, with her long blond hair and blue eyes, she looked a little bit like a rival; how could Sara have not noticed before? This Buffy-girl was totally hooked on Michael; she kept giggling and smiling, plus Michael was giving her all of his best, most charming smiles – well, okay, Sara could relate to the girl on that. No wonder there, even if the girl was falling for him; after all, it was pretty hard not to.

"And we were looking for a quiet tow." Michael joked.

Buffy laughed. "Wrong place."

Sara couldn't repress an eye-roll. And the worse thing was, since Buffy Summers had become a possible rival, it was as though she grew more beautiful by the second – and even worse, she was blond; guys always fell for blondes.

But Sara had no time to pursue in her jealousy-thoughts, as the sound of footsteps sounded in a bedroom, upstairs. Buffy looked up. "You three don't live alone here?"

"Hum..." Sara said. "No, there's this over guy... he's... hum..."

"A cousin," Michael finished, his overwhelming smile only a hint too polite to be natural.

"Really?" Buffy said.

"Yeah," Sara said, anticipating Buffy's next question. "But you don't want to meet him, he's... hum... kind of... hum... crazy." She wasn't too sure how she'd come up with that one – it was the first thing that had crossed her mind, and it seemed to make sense.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Buffy said, taking the information with great serious.

"That's all right," Sara said, "we're only keeping him here until we find him a decent psychiatrist hospital."

Michael grinned at her, imagining Kellerman's face if he could hear the lie she'd just made up.

Buffy smiled politely, and it was at that exact moment Lincoln finally noticed what he thought was so odd about the girl – it was as though she didn't want them to be here, any of them. As though the were interrupting some kind of big plan. Buffy noticed Lincoln's stare.

She got up, hurriedly. "Anyway, I should go. Thank you for the tea, and good luck with your cousin."

"Okay," Michael said, surprised that she was such in a hurry to leave. "See you soon, don't be a stranger."

Buffy mumbled some polite answer before leaving quickly.

Sara slammed the door and turned back to Michael, hands tucked on her hips. "'Don't be a stranger'? Good thinking Mike, why shouldn't she be a stranger? I mean it's not like we're wanted fugitives or anything!"

"What did you want me to say?" Michael defended, genuinely surprised. "Should I have been rude?"

"Yeah!"

"Guys!" Lincoln interrupted.

Michael and Sara stopped arguing to look at Lincoln.

"Was I the only one to notice that weird thing about her?" Lincoln said.

A short silence sent before Michael shrugged. "I didn't think she was weird."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Of course you didn't."

"Well I did, Lincoln spoke before Michael could reply. "I mean... it's like she didn't want us to be here, like it got in the way of something."

Michael considered, his arms crossed on his chest before he ultimately shook his head. "You see evil everywhere Linc. I mean she just came here to be nice."

"Maybe," Lincoln said, "but maybe not. I mean I have a gut feeling about her."

"A bad one?" Michael asked.

"A strong one," Lincoln answered.

"Yeah, I have a bad feeling too." Sara added.

Lincoln didn't need more than one glance to figure her out. "No, you're just jealous."

"What? I'm not like that, how dare you?"

"Let's just all calm down, all right?"

"Hey," Lincoln shrugged, "maybe I'm wrong. I'll just – I don't know. Check her out on the Internet or something."

Sara couldn't help but lift a dubious eyebrow – the opportunity was too good. "Check her out? What's the use? Michael already did that."

She gave him a dreadful look when she ended her sentence.

"I didn't do anything!" He defended.

"Well I'll just do some research on her alright?" Lincoln said. He noticed that the young couple didn't pay much attention to him anymore. "Well, I'll leave you two to it," he muttered before leaving.

Michael sighed as the door audibly closed shut. "You are so overreacting, Sara."

"Well, you didn't say you were overreacting when I was talking with Vaughn."

"Please! I wasn't jealous of Vaughn." Michael said.

"Right! You had your arms all wrapped around me."

"Well, I didn't know you had a problem with that, I was just holding you."

"You were marking your territory."

"I'm not fooling myself, Sara!" He shouted, yet somehow managed to remain calm as he did. "I'd never even dare to say that your anything that belongs to me, I know you're not mine. I just want to make sure no one takes you away from me, is that so wrong?"

He spoke loud, but he sounded soft, and she didn't say anything in return – she just stared at him for a while.

"I am, Michael." Was all she said.

She had spoken as if his words made no sense to her.

"You're what?" He now sounded fully calm.

"Yours."

He looked at her for a second, her beautiful brown eyes, like melted caramel, open wide. He didn't wait more than a second before taking a step toward her and kissing her. She had no idea of the power of this single word she'd just said. She cupped his face in her hands and deepened their kiss, feeling his fingers wandering in her silky auburn hair; he was kissing her with so much passion she felt like her knees might fail her. She wasn't too sure what happened during the next few seconds apart from the fact that his mouth was crushing hers – a few seconds later she gasped, surprising painting over her face as they both tumbled forward and it was a miracle that couch happened to be there.

"Don't you think we should go upstairs?" She hazarded.

"Why?" He joked. "So we won't be interrupted?"

She chuckled along and started kissing him again. She felt his hands skim over her body, so tenderly it was almost shy – though the way he started unbuttoning her shirt before getting rid of it carelessly wasn't shy at all. It was the last thing she had time to reflect on before he was kissing her again and she forgot everything; everything, until she felt his delicate fingers brushing the skin of her bare back. She cried out, both in pain and surprise, when his hands accidentally rubbed the spot where the blade had met her skin, a few weeks back.

Michael moved away.

"Did I hurt you?" Worry was audible in his tone.

She'd never been more honest to a person than to Michael, yet the lie came out right away. "No." Almost naturally. "It's nothing, I'm fine."

Though, of course, it was useless to lie to him, since he never believed a word of it. "What's on your back?" He wondered, his words soft but hesitant. "I felt something –"

"I said it's nothing." She didn't mean to sound sharp – in fact, she never though she'd be the one interrupting their kissing. She slid off the couch and threw her shirt back on carelessly – at first, it didn't even occur to her to just leave him here, but as her hand found the doorknob, she realized she wouldn't know what to say.

And then, she was almost running away from the living room. She slammed the door when she reached their bedroom, before climbing on the bed, and resisting the urge to hug a pillow to her and sob quietly. It wasn't much of a surprise when she heard knocks on the door – she knew Michael would come and talk to her, yet somehow she was afraid all strength might have abandoned her voice.

"Sara?" She heard the desperation in her boyfriend's voice.

She inhaled sharply and swallowed, as though chasing all trace of pain in her voice. "I'm fine Michael," she managed. "Just – please, just go."

A short silence set in before he admitted. "Last time you said that, I found you dead drunk in a bar," he reminded coyly, as though after all they'd been through, the escape, the time apart and the kissing, he was still testing his depth. Trying not to overstep his bounds. He finished, so gentle it was almost ridiculous. "I'm not in a rush to do it again."

He heard her laughter coming from the bedroom – he couldn't help but smile, softly; after all, making her laugh had been his aim. "Can I please come in?" He asked.

She didn't answer for a while, and he waited in silence before she simply said. "The door's open."

He took it as an invitation and walked in, and climbed on the bed to sit next to her. His proximity felt comforting, as though he was a friend she'd known for years and not a passionate romance that was only a few months old.

She smiled weakly, as though to apologize; maybe for the knot in her throat, or her puffy eyes, red from the crying – as though she wasn't aware she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever saw.

He gently stroked her face with his thumb. Still gentle, friendly.

"Will you talk to me?" His words were whispered gently, as though she was made of fragile glass, and loud words could break her.

She sighed and looked away. "What is there to talk about? You –" She swallowed, interrupting herself shortly. For some reason, she knew she could have never had this conversation while looking at him in the eye. "You know what happened to me when – I was being held." The term was difficult to say out loud, as it turned out.

"Is that what's on your back?" Anger crawled into his soft tone. "Scars?" The rage was buried by the hurt on her face, and the love he had for her. "Let me see," he asked.

She pulled away from him. "No." Not even if he was her boyfriend, and her best friend.

He could hear the fear in her voice, and not just self-disgusted dread – genuine fear. The one she'd known. "Let me see Sara," he insisted, being careful to sound soft. "You don't have to be afraid."

Sara sighed. She knew it was killing him, not knowing; maybe if the situations were reversed, it would be killing her, too – she could read his emotions through his blue eyes, but she honestly didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to dive back into the torture, the cuts and burns, and the drowning – she wouldn't, not even for him.

"Look, Michael, it's... it's late, I'm tired I... I think I'm just going to get some sleep."

He observed, very serious. "You didn't eat anything." And to hear him say it, it sounded as though it was a medical emergency.

"No," she hastily disagreed, "no that's not true, I finished the M&Ms and the muffins Buffy brought." It took her a few seconds to add. "I have got to eat better."

Though he wasn't less serious one bit. " I just want you to talk to me."

"And that's nice of you, and I know you're here for me when I need you, but right now I just need to be alone. Okay?"

She didn't really want him to go though, in fact she wanted to snuggle against him and sleep for hours, because the crook of his arms was about the only place left in the world that felt safe right now.

"Well," Michael cleared his throat and nodded. "Okay, um – you don't want to talk about it, and that's okay, huh… can I still stay? We could just rest, and –"

"Cuddle?" She wasn't sure how she'd grown bold enough to make that suggestion, in the past few months, but if she didn't manage to feel ashamed of herself, she observed Michael's boyish-shyness with unwilling delight. She bit her lip to repress her smile; enjoying this had to be wrong – though there was just something so cute about the way he avoided her eyes.

"Well," he muttered, barely audible. "Cuddling wouldn't be absolutely unnecessary."

She smiled when he finally looked up to meet her eyes, and she hoped he saw that all coyness was indeed unnecessary; she wanted to make sure he got the message. "Come here." She said softly, as he joined her on the bed.

And when he held her in his eyes, he let out a sigh – a sigh that didn't express tiredness as it did true happiness. And it was the first time Sara realized how much Michael needed her; it was as though she sensed it, somehow. That he wouldn't be able to sleep, eat, think or even breathe without her next to him.

That he needed her just as much as she needed him.

...

Paul was lying on his bed, his eyes wide open, slowly getting used to the darkness of the night. He could not have been more bored. He felt tired, yet he was incapable to sleep. He sighed, because he knew exactly what his contradictory-fucked-up system needed right now. Sara. He wanted to see her; get out of that bed and talk to her; and he would have done it, pretended to be a sarcastic soulless jackass, if it allowed him to see her – if it hadn't been two in the morning.

He figured that, even though she knew he liked to torment her, late visits at night would kind of freak her out. Then he thought about Michael, and that only kept him awake more. He hated the guy, now he was positive about it, also positive about the fact that he hated him a little bit more each day. Because the guy didn't realize how lucky he was; he just walked around with her, holding her hand, not appreciating his luck nearly as much as Kellerman would himself – okay, well, this was getting a little desperate.

Paul closed his eyes. Blocking her out of his mind had never seemed to work, so for a second, he tried the exact opposite; he just stopped fighting, for a while. If he had this luck, he would never take it for granted; he would never get bored of her, he would never get enough of her –

Well, to stop repressing the thought of her didn't seem to work, in fact it felt a little like he was going to die if he couldn't see her right now. He should have stopped, any sane man would have, instead he tortured himself furthermore, with the thought that Michael was probably holding Sara in his arms, right now; stroking her cheek, her hair... He felt so angry thinking about it, he felt just about as angry and jealous he had felt when he'd heard the noises coming from their room. He'd felt like running to their bedroom, ripping Michael off the young woman's body and throwing him out the window before grinning in satisfaction.

The grin almost did form on his lips, like a tempting specter. It only faded when rational thoughts crushed back into his mind. "Jesus Christ," he mumbled to himself, trying to think of something else – something else. About anything would do right now. Anything. Hum… how about counting sheep? Well, why wouldn't it work? Sheep. Sheep in a field. A calm, quiet field, coming straight from a freaking children's book. Sleeping sheep. Sheep with lambs; sweet innocent lambs. Innocent like Sara. Like – damn it. Sara.

He closed his eyes in despair. This was going to be a long night.

...

"Are you asleep?" Sara asked, appraising Michael's eyes, peacefully shut.

"No." He opened his eyes and looked at her.

She nestled closer to him, and she could feel his warmth through the faded-gray sweater she'd borrowed from him – she felt they shared a special kind of intimacy when she borrowed his clothes.

He shrugged. "Well, since we're both awake, would you like to play a game?"

She couldn't help lift a dubious eyebrow – games with Michael Scofield? Well, after all, that ought to be fun. "Sure," she agreed, "what are the rules?" What _kind_ of game?

"I ask you a question," he answered naturally. "It can be any question, and you have to answer only the truth. Then you ask me a question, and we play until we know everything about each other."

She pouted. "Not exactly the game I had in mind."

It made him smile. "Well the night's still young."

She laughed. "Okay," she agreed, "let's play your game. You go first."

"All right, what's your favorite color?"

She didn't waste a second in answering. "Blue, my turn. How old were you when you kissed a girl for the first time?"

"Um – okay," he shrugged, still a bit coy, "I was just trying to go easy on you."

"Well, I don't know what you're used to Scofield, but when I play a game, I play with my rules." He just grinned in fascination while she continued. "So, how old?"

"Thirteen, you?"

"Fifteen."

"Who kissed you?" He asked.

"My best friend. You?"

"Some girl I went to school with," he said.

"Slut," she mocked him.

"Hey, we went out for a week," he defended with so much fervor it made her smile. "Did you go out with your best friend?"

"No," Sara answered, "she was just teaching me how to kiss."

"She was a _she_?"

Sara shrugged. "Yeah, we were practicing on each other."

"Wow."

"What? You never kissed a guy?"

"Anyway," he shook his head before changing subject. "It's my turn, so…" He resisted the urge to bite his lip, feeling a sudden rush of nervousness, and he hadn't felt like that since high school – it took him a few more to decide the question was okay enough. "How old were you when you lost your virginity?"

It wasn't fair to mock, now that he was just starting to treat her like a flesh-person and not broken glass, but she couldn't help arching a brow, hoping he'd blush.

"My, my, Michael Scofield. What was that about going easy on me?" He opened his mouth to answer, although for a while it didn't really look like he was going to – she decided she felt merciful and dropped the act to answer his question. "All right," she said, "I was eighteen. It was actually on my eighteenth birthday."

"Who was the guy?" Sometimes it felt like she'd never get used to the kindness in his eyes – his lips curved into a slight smile as he joked. "It was a guy, right."

"Yes." She nodded, smiling slightly as well. "And he was my boyfriend, at the time.

"Why'd you break up?"

"Well, that's –" She interrupted herself. "That's a lot of questions." She wasn't sure which of them was more surprised when she shoved him in the chest and he chuckled as he lay down on the bed. Once again, the absence of shame was startling to her; she rolled on top of him before he could react, one leg on each side of him to steady herself. "My rules, now." She decided.

...

Incapable to stand the silence and his own thoughts, Kellerman got up and went down to the kitchen. He made some coffee, thought maybe it would clear his mind. He tried to relax, but there was something urgent, somewhere inside of him, making it feel as though he really needed her right now; as though she was simply something he could no longer live without. And that was crazy, because he'd lived without a Sara-Tancredi all his life for, therefore he should do just fine for the rest of that life; after all, wasn't he the same man?

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn't. It just felt like Sara Tancredi was the breath of air he needed to get through the night. Tomorrow was too far away, he needed her _tonight_. He drank a first sip of coffee, the hot liquid burned his tongue, and it hurt but it almost felt good, too. Good to be brought back to reality. He sighed and took his skull between his hands. He felt like an addict that needed his hit; and he needed it.

Her.

To see her, even just for a short instant, even for just a second – No, he concluded with another sigh, Scofield really didn't know his luck.

Suddenly his cell rang. Again Paul was thankful for being brought back to reality, but he was also curious concerning who might be calling him.

His tone was indifferent, as if nothing would make a difference to him anymore. "Kellerman?" He figured it was safe to give his real name – after all, his former employers had turned him into a ghost, hadn't they?

"We need to talk, Paul."

The voice on the phone made his whole body shiver. A part of him felt like hanging up right away, but he knew he couldn't. And he wouldn't. As always.

"Caroline." He managed after a short moment of silence. "What a surprise, it's been a while." He didn't let any emotion show in his tone – the hell with emotions, he'd wear that mask of stone forever if he had to, if the alternative was Caroline Reynolds knowing what he felt right now. To escape that, he'd even let that mask become his true face.

"We need you, Paul." At least she still didn't believe in wasting time. "The team needs you back, I need you back."

Well, wasn't that the coup de grâce? She needed him. President of the United States, and here she was, calling him in the middle of the night, because she needed him. And he wasn't that man anymore, no sir, never again, and he knew that very well, but hearing her voice – it almost made him feel like he was. Back to being that man. Caroline Reynolds' willing slave. Maybe the mask had indeed become his true face.

"We need to meet and talk," she said, "but before we do, I need to know that you're on my side Paul."

There was a short moment of silence where Kellerman was incapable of saying a word.

"Paul?" The president asked. "Are you?"


	9. Chapter 9

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Already nine chapters down __ hope there are still some people who read this story, though correcting it is so much fun I'd probably be doing it anyway. Remember reviews are always welcome, and if you spot any mistake I might have forgotten, feel free to tell me. _

_WARNINGS: Slurs. _

Sara rested her head on Michael's chest. The quiet atmosphere of the room was beginning to make her a bit sleepy. Her tone was almost childish. "Okay, my turn, what was the happiest moment of your life?"

Her boyfriend pondered shortly. "I don't know," Michael admitted. "Maybe it was when we met at the train station and I found you there, waiting for me. I was so happy to know that you'd shown up."

"Why were you even surprised?" She tried to sound teasing. "I told you I'd wait for you."

He grinned. "Right. Now, what was the happiest moment of your life?"

His hand was lightly stroking her shoulder, which her grey sweater uncovered almost fully. The material had lowered sometime during the night – Sara figured the cuddling might have something to do with it.

"You're going to think it's stupid," she said for an answer.

"I swear I won't."

It wouldn't have convinced her if he'd been most men, but Michael's tone was so solemn she couldn't refuse. "All right," she consented, "Do you remember that riot at the Fox River prison?"

He frowned. "Yes, but since we both almost died there, I don't really see the point."

She chuckled, half-blushing in slight embarrassment. "I know, it's stupid, but... you know, right after you pulled me out of the infirmary, we climbed into the ceilings and even though hell was breaking loose down there, I just felt so safe with you." She looked, her eyes filled with blind trust.

Without deserving to be pained by it, Michael realized that after Fox River, he'd believed she'd never trust him again.

She went on with that same look in her eyes. "That's the moment I knew that you'd always be there to rescue me." She paused for a second, lowering her eyes. "That's the moment I knew I loved you."

She'd meant these words since the riot, but she had never said them until now. She looked back at him once the words were out – it didn't even feel like she was hoping he'd say it back, strangely; she just knew he would.

"Sara." He breathed her name with so much softness – she mistook remorse for tenderness.

"Yes?" Her eyes lit up slightly, sparkled with anticipation.

"I –" _I love you_. He wanted to say it, he wanted it so badly it almost hurt, but instead, he just heard himself blurt. "I'm the one who started the riot in Fox River."

...

Kellerman cleared his throat, giving himself a second to think – he really _needed_ to start thinking.

"Paul?" Through Caroline's imperturbable calm, he could tell she was growing impatient; he knew her too damn well not to recognize that tone. Fuck. The bitch could be impatient after what she'd done to him; she'd turned him into a goddamn ghost, had it been convenient to disappear? Yes, but it was the worst thing she could have done to him, and she knew that very well – for him to help her climb on top, so that she'd let him take that deadly fall from her pedestal.

"I heard you," he spoke, congratulating himself for how coldly he sounded – he was in control of this, not her, he let it last because he wanted to let it last. He always thought he was in control with Caroline. He'd been wrong so many times. He closed his eyes, tightly shut before he continued. "I don't know what you were expecting, but a phone call is not going to cut it."

"What do you want?"

"To see you." For no other reason than to say 'no' to her right in her face, to humiliate her – already the thoughts were dimming, and he wondered if he'd still believe them by the time he'd found himself a cab.

"Of course," she agreed, her voice both cold and soft as always, like frozen honey. "Just tell me where you are, and we'll meet.

He laughed. She really must think he was a rookie to set the good old where-are-you trap.

"I don't think so Caroline, you know I'm not that naïve. We'll meet out of town." Already the control was slipping away, as was rationality – he could hear it pouring out of his voice, as he said his name.

"Fine," she answered; she usually so rarely agreed to compromise. He figured she had to know how badly she needed to make it up to him. "Do you remember that place where we celebrated your 30'th birthday?"

"Vaguely." He remembered exactly.

"Can you be there today?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll see you there." It was the last thing he heard from her before she hung up.

Though Kellerman kept the phone to his ear, like a broken automat, minutes after the line had gone dead.

Now that the resent was no longer pervasive, a bit more open thoughts get through – right now, he could only think of one: Caroline Reynolds had always been the most important person in his life. That was the truth, there was no way around it. He had tortured for her. He had killed for her. He would have even died for her. But now? He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

But he pictured it; he couldn't help picturing what it would be like to have his old life back, the real good life, before she became unreachable. He pictured his previous life, only better; standing next to the president, being her right arm, getting back the job he did best, and the woman he'd always wanted to have. Standing by her like an armor. Being a man she needed.

To think of it left him with a bitter taste – he wanted to be resentful, he had the right to be, but beyond that, he wanted to feel envy; if he didn't, then he wasn't certain who that made him. And truth was, he just wasn't sure that's what he wanted anymore. He blocked out the thoughts, like a mask of stone. Nonsense. This life was all he'd known, all he'd ever wanted; he'd only involved himself with Scofield and Burrows to get revenge.

It had nothing to do with Sara.

And why would he throw this life away ? For a woman who despised him? Not the kind of woman he would ever stand by. Not the kind of woman who would ever need him. He could choose Caroline over Sara Tancredi, he already had when he'd abducted her the previous week. Why would it be any different now?

Kellerman hated to feel weak, or vulnerable, and he was almost positive these feelings were all coming from Sara. He had never felt weak when he was standing by Caroline, nor guilt for that matter, and besides, he never had to steal Caroline's kiss. He had always been there for her when she wanted him, and Sara had made it clear that she didn't want anything from him. In the end, there wasn't really much of a choice to make.

Then why was it so hard ?

He finally put the phone down, his eyes lost in emptiness. He stood still for minutes which seemed to last hours, then, moving like a robot, he left. When he closed the front door behind him, he felt like shutting a door on a whole part of his life; when he walked in the streets and got in the first cab he saw, he felt like he was running away. And when he was far enough from Sunnydale, and that he realized that the woman he was so desperate to see earlier had probably disappeared from his life permanently, he felt like saying goodbye.

Goodbye to Lance, goodbye to this life that could have been his, if he had made different choices, goodbye to blueberry pie and to this house that in time could have felt like home.

He closed his eyes and sighed painfully. Goodbye Sara.

...

Sara got up so quickly she almost fell back instantly. She was too angry to see straight.

"Sara, wait –"

"Get away from me!" She shouted – she truly had no idea how angry she was before she spoke the words. When she got out of their bed, with Michael on her heels, she was basically running away from him.

She headed towards the door, but he followed her into the corridor. His eyes were full of love and devotion, and she would have gone crazy if he'd looked like her like that a few minutes before – now, the craziness she felt was a whole different kind.

"Sara, please just listen to me." He tried to take her arm in an attempt to make her stay, but she slapped him when he tried. He just stood there in shock – she was surprised too, and she could believe she'd hit him; she'd barely managed to even slap Kellerman. She would have never thought before that one could be so angry at someone you loved so much.

Though her tone was unyielding when she managed out a response – not much of an explanation. "I said, don't touch me."

"Look, Sara..." He did the best he could to hide the pain in his voice. "You've known for a long time now that our relationship is based on –"

"Yes, Michael," her tone was impossibly dry. "I know. I know that your feelings for me started on a lie, I just didn't know that my feelings for you started on a lie too."

"Sara –" If she hadn't interrupted him, he was pretty sure he would have choked.

"Damn it, Michael, was anything ever real between us?" Her tone had slightly lowered – she was hurt, as well. "Was anything we shared together not just a lie, or part of a plan?"

Michael lowered his eyes slightly, as though searching for something to hold onto – at that very moment, he prayed that he'd find the right words to make her stay. "I'm sorry." He breathed.

He knew they were the wrong words as they left his mouth.

She swallowed back her tears. "I'm sorry too."

She tried to walk pass him, but he stopped her. "I beg you." There was genuine supplication in his voice; it didn't really matter now, dancing around each other, trying to say 'I love you' in codes and riddles. Nothing really mattered, now. "Please. Just give me another chance –"

"I already gave them to you, Michael." She didn't even sound cold, just angry and – worse – honest. "I gave you _hundreds_ of chances. You just keep blowing them away."

She tried to walk away again, and he really thought he was going to let her this time – he'd never begged for a woman back before in his entire life. But he took grabbed her by the shoulders, somehow soft through his urgency, blocking her way. His gesture wasn't remotely violent but she still shivered at his touch.

"I'm so sorry." He repeated, "For everything.

He said the right things. The whole forgive-me speech, she knew it by heart, but he said it exactly right, only she didn't want to hear it. She just wanted to walk away from him, right now; she felt like she didn't even know him anymore, and she really wished she could think of something else, but all she kept hearing in her head were Michael's words, after the riot.

It was stupid, she just couldn't stop thinking of it. _I hope you don't feel like you owe me anything_.

She looked away from him, feeling like she was going burst into sobs any time, now. She hoped she'd be able to hold back a little while longer.

Michael let go of her shoulders to take her face in his hands, and his thumb brushed against her cheek. "Let me fix this, Sara. Please."

She took a few moments to state. "Every time you try to make things better, I end up getting hurt." She covered her hands with his and softly brought them down, away from her face. She finished. "And I suffered for you more than my fair share."

She walked away, and Michael's eyes remained wide open, as though blind. He was both speechless and breathless. He just never thought this was how it would end.

…

Sara walked downstairs, almost running before she let herself crash onto the living room's couch. She buried her face in her hands, hoping she might be able to let a few tears flow. She couldn't believe this had just happened.

The riot came rushing back in her mind; she'd locked herself inside the infirmary, the panic was pervasive and the fear was so real, so overwhelming that she couldn't even see straight. She felt as though she was drowning, and unable to even see the surface. And when she saw him there, his intense blue eyes fixed on her, his hand extended, slowly disappearing through the smoke like a mirage, she had just known. Known that he was nothing like the other men here, who trying to kick the door down. Known that every time she'd feel there was no escape for her, he would be there. Known that he was her hero, that he would never hurt her or use her, like the other inmates were about to.

Yet he had.

Right now, all she wanted was something to connect her back to reality, to see Lincoln bursting inside the room, with his comforting awkwardness, or even Kellerman, who'd blurt one of his stupid comments – yeah, even that would be reassuring.

She couldn't repress a dim smile, which somehow seemed to make up for the absence of tears in her eyes; had she really just wished for Kellerman to walk in? She _did_ hate him, with his self-confidence, his attitude. But what was most annoying was his falseness; it felt as though he was always trying to be someone else, trying so hard to keep the mask in place that he let himself forget who was underneath. And she couldn't help but think of the morning they'd argued, when he'd kissed her – at first, she wasn't sure how the thought was relevant, but then she realized; it had felt like the first moment where he was truly himself with her. There had been no mask there. Of course, there had been nothing romantic about the kiss, she thought, it was just an act of domination, of him proving to her that he was in control over her. Right?

And then she realized, she had basically just broken up with Michael, yet there were no tears in her eyes, and she was thinking about Kellerman.

...

Paul was waiting inside of his cab, looking at her.

She was not alone, and he had assumed she wouldn't be; he was expecting the two body guards, standing by her. He wondered if he was still the kind of man to stand by her.

She was just as he remembered her; her blond neatly brushed hair reached her shoulders, her makeup was perfectly applied, and her outfit appropriate. He'd forgotten how much that word suited her: perfect. Cold, tall and beautiful, and never would she let him see a single flaw – imperfection.

She was so different from Sara. The thought came bluntly, without he had time to stop it. The makeup, the neat brushing enhancing her blonde hair – the cold perfectness was like a layer of ice. Perhaps it was the first time Kellerman truly acknowledged that icy cover, like a second skin she wore. As though to always keep him out.

Paul kept staring at Caroline; she hadn't spotted him yet, and he was enjoying that short moment of power, to watch her before she'd yet seen him. She was waiting in the deserted park, illuminated by a ray of moonlight. He remembered so clearly the day they had spent together, five years ago in that same park; he remembered that he'd made her laugh when he'd popped the champagne open, and moss of bubbles had sprayed all over them.

Even her laughter had been cold. Had he ever been aware of that? Her laughter was restrained, perfectly controlled. Again he thought of Sara, and on the contrary, her laughter was warm; her smile was blinding. And it occurred to him that perhaps, in another life, he could have looked at her smile every day of his life without getting bored of it.

But again, why on earth would he want Caroline Reynolds to be warm? He had always known she wasn't, and it was exactly the way he had loved her. She was his Ice Queen, and he'd adored her just that way; warmth would have only made her melt.

"Are you getting out, or what?" His taxi driver said.

Kellerman paid him and exited the cab. He measured his footsteps neatly as he walked towards Caroline. He was disappointed by the absence of expression on her face when she saw him – he would have wanted anger, or even an apology. Just something different than the way she'd looked at him, whenever he walked to her, for the past fifteen years.

"I'm pleased to see you again." She spoke, measured – _cold_.

Well, he wasn't; not that much. Not while she was surrounded by muscle. He cleared his throat before suggesting. "Why don't we save this talk for when we're in private?" He glanced at her two bodyguards to make what me meant obvious.

She ordered them to leave them, and they obeyed; well, they only stepped back, enough to leave them a bit of privacy, but still.

Kellerman spoke bitterly. "It's been a while. From what I remember, I'd been seeing that Bill Kim instead of you, every since you became president.

"I know that upset you."

_You bet it upset me_. He'd done everything for her to become president of the United States, and what had he gotten for it? Some bossy asshole, telling him that everything ran through him

"It did." Kellerman answered; when she was around, he was cold, too. Had he ever noticed _that_, before?

"I made mistakes," she said for a justification, "I know that now, but I will make it up to you Paul."

"How?" He didn't look one bit impressed.

"I want you to work with me again," she said.

He laughed ironically. "What a favor."

"I missed you," she added.

He didn't mean for these three little words to affect him as much as they did. He swallowed. After all she'd done, after all she'd put him through... all she needed to say was "I missed you", and she'd get her way?

"I admit it," she went on, "I was blinded, overwhelmed by this power, and I ended up betraying the only person that has been standing next to me all along."

Paul didn't answer.

"Burrows and Scofield?" She finally asked. "Have you been working with them?"

He laughed and looked away. '_Don't let her use you anymore_, _Paul_.' He didn't have time to answer her before he felt her hand on his cheek. He turned his head back at her, her thumb stroking his cheek gently as her other hand snaked around his neck. Her face was only a few inches from his.

"Paul..." she gently whispered, "I have to know that you're with me on this."

Both of her hands were now around his neck, gently massaging his doubts away.

"Are you?" She asked for the second time.

Her mouth was inches away from his, and he knew what the reward for his answer would be. And so he said. "Yes."

She smiled before kissing him; he could almost still feel the cold. Before his mind was fully occupied by Caroline, Paul's last thought was for Sara Tancredi, and how bittersweet she'd tasted.

...

Michael let his head fall back behind him, and crash on his pillow. He sighed heavily. He couldn't believe it. He had lost her. She was his, she had said so, and now he had lost her. For the first time since he'd gone to see Lincoln in prison, he felt like crying. Months ago, which seemed like another life ago, he had planned to meet her, to seduce her; he had seen the end of them before it had even begun, but it had all drifted so far from the plan. _She_ had been so different than what he'd planned. She'd taken his heart, and she wasn't even aware of what she'd done. She didn't know how tremendous the consequences had been. He was the one who had began to be obsessed by her; when he had first tried to escape with the group, and the attempt had failed, he should have been terrified, but when he'd seen that new pipe blocking their way, above of frustration and fear, he'd felt relieved. Because that way, he could stay with her. She had taken the most important place in his life, every time he tried to focus, a part of him was occupied by her, always, and each day as he left the infirmary, he felt like letting his heart behind.

No. She had no idea what she'd done.

He closed his eyes.

He felt so stupid to cry like this, but he couldn't help it. He hated what he had become, he hated that she hated him, he hated that he had started an incident that had almost gotten her raped and killed, he hated that she would have hated him all along if she had known before. He hated that, considering that fact, she had never really been his.

Again, this night he did not sleep, because all he could think of was that he couldn't feel her next to him.

...

Sara woke up after two hours of sleep; she was still lying on the living room's couch, and all she wanted to do was to run back into the room they shared with Michael, crawl on the bed, snuggle against him and stay that way forever. But she was afraid to look at him and not see the man she had fallen in love with.

She got up and went to the kitchen to make some coffee, but Lincoln had already made some.

"Good morning," he greeted, before handing her a mug.

"Thanks," she said, before taking a long swallow, "do you know what time it is?"

"7 a.m."

"You've been up all night?" She asked.

"Almost. I was doing some research on that Buffy Summers girl."

"And _that_ took all night?"

"Do you want to know what I found out or don't you?" He didn't wait for an answer. "She's mentioned in a lot of unsolved police cases."

"Really?" The young woman sounded slightly startled. "Was she involved in any of them?"

"Well, not really," he admitted. "They never had any proof against her, but they found her on lots of crime scenes. It's almost as though she was always there at the wrong place, at the wrong time."

Sara shrugged before hazarding. "Coincidences?"

Lincoln shook his head. "I don't know." He took a swallow of his own drink before he changed subject. "Anyway, what's up with you and Mike?"

Sara strangled with her coffee. "Excuse me?"

"It's just, I saw you sleeping on the couch, so…" He sounded apologetic.

Sara lowered her eyes. She wanted to cry when she looked back on what had happened, even though she hadn't managed to shed a single tear when it had. She finally looked at Lincoln and confessed. "We kind of broke up."

"Why?" He frowned.

"Actually, you probably know why." She shrugged, and sighed. "He said… he told me that he was the one who started the riot, a few weeks after he arrived to Fox River."

"So?"

Sara stared at him, and when incomprehension turned into anger, she looked at him as though he was the incarnation of rudeness. She realized she needed to restrain herself not to throw her burning coffee at him.

"Hum..." she managed, trying to ring a bell. "So, I'm mad at him?"

"Why?" He said. "I mean, it's no reason for breaking up, it's not like you got hurt in the riot or anything."

"I nearly got killed!" She hadn't meant to shout.

"_What_?"

"You didn't hear of it?" She was genuinely surprised. "All the inmates were bragging about it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

She started explaining, only a bit weary. "The day of the riot, the inmates that I was treating went sort of crazy. They knocked out the guard who was with me, so I locked myself inside the infirmary. They tried to knock the door down, and there weren't exactly subtle regarding their intentions if they succeeded."

She assessed Lincoln for a while, trying to determine if there was the slightest chance he might be lying – she only found genuine shock on his face. "Wow." He managed, and the word sounded heavy. "I had no idea."

She lowered her eyes slightly when she was done assessing him. "Didn't Michael tell you?" She asked, genuinely wondering now that she'd decided he was being honest.

"No," he said, and his voice was still weighed by the information. "No, actually Michael never talked about you.

When Sara lowered her eyes, doing a poor job at hiding her feelings, Lincoln realized what an idiot he could be sometimes. "N...no. That's not – what I meant, was he didn't talk about you because he doesn't talk about anything. You know Michael, he's not actually loquacious, never has been, and it got worse when he got into Fox River. I mean, all he was focused on was the escape..." He realized his mistake too late. Because making her feel like she came second after one of Michael's plans was probably not a good idea – probably a feeling she knew way too well. "Not what I meant either," he said, apologetic.

"Look, just stop," she tried to sound as nice as possible. "It's sweet, what you're trying to do, but you're... you're not helping him here."

He kept serious. "Though I am sorry," he spoke solemnly, "about this, about the riot... I really had no idea of what happened to you there."

"It's okay."

They were both silent for a second. "So..." Lincoln finally said, a bit hesitant; he didn't like the idea to sound like Mr. Obvious, rooting for his brother and the cute prison's doctor. "Are you two going to get back together?"

"I don't know." She admitted, "Right now, I'm just trying to think about something I love about him that isn't a lie."

Lincoln nodded. "Okay, well. If you want to talk about this, I'm – I'm here for you." Awkward and Lincoln-ish, but honest.

"Thanks." She said.

"And Sara?" He was surprisingly serious. "I'm genuinely sorry, for all that you've went through for me." She let out a chuckle, both surprise and nervousness. "Well," he went on, "I know it wasn't for me but... it was mainly because of me."

"No." She denied, a bit more serious also. "Lincoln, it wasn't –"

"When you were tortured," he interrupted gently, and a shudder ran over her at the mention. "You probably didn't know it then, but it was for information that might get me exonerated someday, and now it's happening... thanks to you. It's happening thanks to you. So... I'm sorry."

She didn't answer right away. "I'm not," her answer was serious, and she tried to lighten her tone when she went you. "And don't say you're sorry. You can thank me when you're a free man, okay?"

He smiled. "Agreed."

...

When Kellerman woke up he was alone, half naked inside Caroline's bed. She usually never did spend the whole night with him, he remembered; she was a busy woman. It was late, after ten a.m. no doubt, and a ray of sun illuminated the room. Waking up in this bed again, her bed, gave Paul a feeling of satisfaction; as if everything was back to normal. And it really was going back to normal, he thought, as he realized that last night, his mind had been fully occupied by Caroline, and he hadn't thought of Sara Tancredi once.

He grinned, as he saw Caroline pass in the room. Her blonde hair flashed like sunshine, and he was wearing the blind smile of an idiot. At that second, he almost knew it, and he let it slide right off; because he figured maybe, the kind of stupid he'd been all his life was a lot better than this new kind he'd been experiencing with Sara.

"Good morning."

She didn't answer. She walked to him and put some fresh clothes in front of him. "Get dressed then meet me in my office," she said, "we have a lot to do today."

When he had dressed and showered, he joined Caroline in the other room. He almost knew this office by heart now, and to find it again gave him a pleasant sensation of control.

"Take a seat."

He obeyed. He noticed that Caroline's attitude had changed toward him, slightly; more accurately, she was acting exactly as she'd behaved towards him during the entire time he'd known. She didn't need to win him back anymore, he was already hers and willing to obey. For a while at least. And she knew it.

"Well, it's time to talk business now. I hear you've been working with Burrows and Scofield for the past week."

"Yes," Paul answered.

He pushed away any feeling of remorse that was to come. This wasn't betrayal, he didn't owe Scofield anything. He didn't owe any of them.

"Good." She nodded. "Does that mean you know their position?"

"Yes," he answered, placid. "Do you want me to get them for you?"

"Actually no," Caroline answered, and Paul frowned. "You might know something about a tape that is in their possession?"

"Oh yes," Paul said with a smile, "I wasn't invited to the listening party, but Lincoln sure thinks that it will prove you had him framed."

"Well that's the problem, obviously." She stated dryly.

"Though you're forgetting something here," Kellerman pointed out. "The tape's gone, Scofield gave it to someone who'll know how to bring you down with it. I have no idea where it is now."

"We don't need to know where it is," Caroline assured. "Scofield will give it to us."

Paul frowned. He didn't particularly like to be kept in the dark. "Come again?"

"Where is Scofield?" Caroline asked, ignoring him.

"Sunnydale." He answered right away.

"Well, is his girlfriend with him?"

Kellerman felt a slight tightening in his chest. His face remained impassive. "Yes."

"Well, you'll get her then. With her as leverage, Michael will give us anything we ask."

Paul nodded, acting indifferently as he said. "No offense, but Sara is just a girl he met a few months ago, what makes you so sure he'll give you the tape?"

"What's your point, here?"

"Well, taking Burrows would be a safer bet. We could –"

"I think you can handle kidnapping a young woman more easily than a man like Lincoln Burrows," she interrupted sharply. I don't want any waves around this. We're going to take the easy way out."

Paul just nodded again.

"I believe you've did all this before with her, anyway." Caroline said, and there was something close to suspicion on her tone as she went on. "I saw her picture. She's pretty."

Kellerman shrugged, never breaking eye-contact as he remained impassive on the outside. He answered carelessly. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Caroline laughed, with that icy cold laughter of hers. She had always been able to tell when he was lying.

Paul let out a small chuckle, entirely humorless; almost a sigh. He knew Caroline, and even though no one saw her to be that way, she was a very jealous woman. Not in the classical way of the term, but in her own peculiar twisted manner. Even though she had never returned Paul's love, she needed it.

"So it won't be a problem?" Caroline finally asked.

"It won't be," he assured. "But again, I have to say that if we kidnapped Burrows, Scofield would be a lot more willing to do as we tell him –"

"We're not taking Burrows." Caroline interrupted coldly; categorically. "It will be Sara Tancredi, is that clear?"

Kellerman let out a mirthless chuckle, sheer realization as he wondered. "Are you testing me?"

It wasn't much of a question, he already knew the answer. Caroline had to know that she came first with him, and Sara was the perfect way to verify that.

"I'm not testing you, Paul," she said, "but these are difficult times. And I need to know how far you are willing to go with this."

Paul grinned at her, and answered. "All the way."


	10. Chapter 10

Lincoln entered his brother's room after knocking, briefly. "Hey," he said for a greeting, before he asked. "Have you seen Kellerman?"

Michael was lying on his bed, his eyes wide open, in the exact same position he had lying in all night. "No," the young man answered without even pretending to care. His eyes were set on the ceiling, lost in emptiness; all he could think about was Sara.

Lincoln noticed his brother's misery. "Are you all right?" He sat next to him on the bed, hoping to force some sort of reaction out of him.

"How could I be?" Michael said for an answer.

Lincoln sighed. "Yeah... I talked to Sara, I know what's going on."

"You've talked to her?" Michael's eyes seemed to light up, "how is she?"

"She's kind of a mess," Lincoln shrugged, "like you."

Michael didn't answer, and everything was silent for a moment. "She broke up with me," he finally let out – the tears had shamefully come and gone all night, now his voice was simply weighed by some kind of emptiness.

"Yeah, I know man," Lincoln said, apologetically, "she told me." Seeing his brother like that, he hesitated whether or not he should go on – he pondered a few seconds on it before he added. "You never told me what happened to her in that riot."

"Yeah," Michael said, and the guilt was entirely audible in his voice. "I guess I was ashamed."

"Look Mike," Lincoln said, "I... I really don't want it look like I don't care about your feelings and stuff, but..."

Michael sighed heavily, and tried not to think about Sara for a second. "What's the problem Linc?" He said.

"Well, first of all Kellerman's missing," Lincoln said, "I checked his room, and the whole house. He's gone."

"Maybe he figured we wouldn't need him anymore soon, and he left," Michael suggested.

"Maybe." Lincoln shrugged. "But there's more, you know I did some research on that Buffy girl?"

"Yeah," his brother answered. "So?"

"So, among the fact that she's connected to like – a hundred of unsolved cases, I found out something kind of strange."

"What?" Michael said frowning.

"Well, I didn't tell Sara because I didn't want to freak her out, but when this chick, Buffy, was a teenager, she got expelled of her old school."

"So?" Michael said.

"Wait to hear why," Lincoln pursued, "she got kicked out after setting fire to her gym."

"Still don't see the point."

"The point is that Buffy said that she had burned the gym down, be cause it was invaded with vampires."

Michael's eyes widened, before he shut them close and sighed. "I'm so tired of hearing about vampires."

"You and I both, brother, but look Mike, I didn't tell all this to Sara because I wanted to check with you first, but honestly, after what's happened to her, I think she has a right to know."

Michael sighed. "All these are just theories," he said.

"Maybe," Linc agreed, "but she still deserves to know the truth."

Michael nodded, a bit reluctant. "Yeah, you're right.

When the brothers went downstairs, Sara was busy cooking lunch. The young woman froze when she saw Michael; she could feel all of his pain just by looking in his eyes. She tried not to let her eyes linger on him, and reported her attention to the meal she was cooking.

"Lunch ready in about 15 minutes," she informed, still not looking at Michael. "You guys hungry?"

Michael lowered his eyes; Sara had obviously chosen to ignore him, but he knew that avoiding the problem wasn't going to fix it.

"Hell yeah," Lincoln said suddenly smiling like a kid, "what are we eating?"

"Mashed potatoes and steak."

"Sounds great." The older brother grinned. He couldn't honestly remember the last time he had a decent meal.

"Hum," Michael said, staring at his brother. "Linc? Didn't we have stuff to talk about?"

"What stuff?" Sara said.

"Right," Lincoln said, a bit more professional. "Hum..."

Sara put down the bowl she was crushing the potatoes in. "What?" She repeated.

Michael began, trying to put what had happened the previous night behind him. "We were wondering if maybe you felt like talking about what happened to you, the other night. When that thing attacked you?"

"Thing?" Sara echoed. Her eyes went from Michael to Lincoln."You told him!" She realized.

"Well –"

"Jesus, Michael! I had told you not to talk to anyone about this!"

"I'm sorry," he started.

"Well," she shrugged coldly. "I guess I really shouldn't be surprised. You just lied to me, again."

"Hey, you're no miss perfect either!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Enough, both of you!" Lincoln shouted. "For Christ's sake, I feel like dealing with two teenagers!" A sort of shameful silence established, and Linc turned to his younger brother. "Maybe you should go for a sec Mike, I can talk to her."

Michael didn't feel like going at all. He wanted to stay with Sara and face the problem, but he knew that it would be easier for her to talk about her attack with someone who would be able to believe her. Someone like Lincoln. Michael threw a last glance toward Sara before he started to walk away. But she was still furious at him.

"That's right," she muttered, although loud enough for him to hear her. "Just leave me behind again, all I'm good for is opening doors, anyway."

Michael didn't say anything, but he looked at her again, and there was so much hurt in his eyes that Sara wanted to wish back all the words she'd just said. He finally lowered his eyes and left, leaving Sara with a bitter taste in her mouth. The apology was on her lips, but it wouldn't come out.

"You okay?" Lincoln asked.

"Let's not talk about this." Was all she said.

"Right," he agreed, and suggested. "Would you sit?"

Sara found that it was a good idea, and she took a seat next to Lincoln. "All right," she said, "what do you want to ask me?"

"I'd like to tell me how you were attacked;"

"Well…" An immediate nervousness started clinging to her when she opened her mouth, like a second skin. "I was walking down the streets, at night, and then this man started talking to me."

"What did he look like?" Lincoln asked.

Sara couldn't help but to realize how Lincoln was taking her seriously; it reassured her somehow. "Hum..." she went on. "He looked pale, old and young at the same time." She tried to think of more details. "His eyes were dark, I think, and kind of Jack the Ripper style."

"Okay," Lincoln said, still with that reassuring seriousness. "You say he talked to you, what did he say?"

"Uh – I'm sorry to ask, Linc, but what is this about?"

Lincoln understood why she'd ask. "Look," he said, "since Michael told me that you were talking about vampires after your first attack, I started thinking. I know, quite shocking, isn't it?" He ignored her slight laughter – she figured he'd said it to make her laugh. "So, when we got here, I did some research, and found out that this town had been prone to multiple animals attack. Bodies were found, completely drained of blood. I saw some pictures, and the wounds looked just like yours."

Sara's mouth dropped wide open. "Really?" She frowned. She imagined for a second the perspective of vampires being a real thing, in this world. Then she shook her head. "No, Linc, I – I admitted to myself that I must have been wrong, the other night."

"And I don't think you were," he said, still extremely serious. "You didn't show any mark of struggling, as if you stood still the whole time it was happening. Why would you do that?" He didn't give her time to answer. "And even though the attacks that happened in Sunnydale were filed as animals attacks, what kind of animal would strike in the middle of the streets?" Sara didn't answer, so he pursued. "All right, just take a look at these."

He took some pictures from the inside pocket of his jacket before showing them to the young woman. They were photos of wounds, the exact same injuries Sara had; on their wrists, on their neck. Sara examined the photos one by one. "God," she managed, incapable of uttering another word.

Lincoln let her watch attentively all the pictures before he spoke. "Now as a doctor, I'm asking you, what kind of animal do you think could have done this?"

Sara swallowed with difficulty. With her rational mind, she couldn't help but think that the possibility of an animal doing this was impossible; the wounds were clean, as if they'd been made by professionals, and also the victims were only wounded in one specific place and drained from there blood, no animal would have been so thorough, it would have torn the body apart and ate it.

But yet again, with her rational mind Sara had trouble believing a vampire might have done this as well. When did all this happen?" She asked.

"It started three weeks ago."

Sara gasped in horror. "All the bodies?"

Lincoln nodded. "I know. It means if... if someone really is behind all this, then it looks like he's getting ready for something."

"I can't believe this," Sara said, the photographs slipping through her fingers like a waterfall. "All these persons died in three weeks?"

"Well, not all of them." Sara stared at him in incomprehension. "The last picture you're holding," Linc said for an explanation. Sara looked at it; it showed wounds on someone's neck area. "That girl's still alive." Linc stated.

"What?" Sara said.

"She was attacked two days ago. Her wound was more serious than yours, she's still in the hospital."

"We don't know if the same thing happened to her."

"Well, maybe we should ask her."

Sara understood what he meant. "I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"Come on, Sare," he said, "that's the only way we're going to know for sure."

Sara sighed. "I –" Before she ended her sentence, the fire alarm started ringing.

"Damn it!" She cursed, running to remove the overcooked steaks from the pan, to put them in a plate. While she was busy trying to save the meal, Lincoln hurried to the fire alarm and turned it off.

"Is it too late for them?" Lincoln waved his head toward the pan.

"Oh, I think so."

"Thank god we got potatoes." He was only half-joking; after prison food, he'd be willing to eat about anything in the world that was coming from real nutriments.

Michael rushed inside the room, and Sara immediately avoided his eyes. "Is everything?" He asked, "I heard the fire alarm –"

"Everything's fine, little brother," Lincoln interrupted warmly, "Sara just can't talk and cook at the same time."

She ignored him, and remained busy keeping her eyes away from Michael.

"So?" Lincoln said to change the subject. "You want to eat or what?"

"No," Sara said, "you guys go ahead, seeing all these wounds made me loose my appetite." The real reason was that she didn't want to be in the same room as Michael, but she figured it was a little too childish for her to say so.

"You're a doctor, and seeing wounds makes you loose your appetite?" Lincoln said, ironically.

"Yeah," she spoke dryly, although all resent was addressed to Michael. "Well, I have the stupid habit to autodestruct myself." She said before disappearing in the stairs.

Michael sighed and closed his eyes in despair. When he opened them again, Lincoln had already taken a seat at the table and put a fork full of mashed potatoes in his mouth. Hmm..." Lincoln commented wordlessly. "She knows how to cook, that one's a keeper Mike."

Michael glared at him, and Lincoln swallowed his whole bite without chewing. "Sorry," he said.

...

Sara heard three knocks on her door, and told him to come in.

Michael entered, almost shyly, even though this was technically still his room. "Hey," he said a little embarrassed.

"Hey," she said back, as cold as she was able to be.

He sighed. "Look, Sara, I... I'm not here to talk about last night. I just want to let you know that Linc and I are going to the hospital," he specified, "to talk to that girl."

"Fine." She said, on the same tone she'd used before.

Michael sighed again. "Okay. Look, I've been trying not to do this, but I keep coming to the conclusion that we need to talk about what happened."

"I thought we weren't going to."

"Well, we have to!" A short silence set afterwards, and he regretted raising his voice.

"Look..." He pursued, calmer. "I know how mad at me you are about yesterday but... does that mean that we are over?" He didn't believe it. He couldn't do anything about it, really, even if it was a bit audacious; he just didn't believe a word of it. He couldn't.

Sara looked away, and he went on. "Is this the end of us?"

She looked back at him. "What is there to end? From what I understand, we never really existed."

Michael lowered his eyes, hoping with all his heart she would never know how much she'd just hurt him. He swallowed painfully, trying to melt down the knot in his throat. "All right," he said. There was so much pain in his voice that Sara felt like crying – she should have cried. She even wanted to. For some reason, she was sure that tears would have hurt less than their absence. He sighed, and finally looked back at her. "Well, you can have the bedroom."

"No." She wasn't sure why she protested, but refusing seemed like the appropriate thing to do. "You don't have to do that –"

"It's all right," he assured, "I'll just take Kellerman's room."

Sara frowned, unable to hide her surprise. "Excuse me?"

"He left last night," Michael explained, though it didn't really matter to him at the moment.

"What?" She said, "Why would he just leave? It doesn't make any sense."

"He must have thought we'd get rid of him sometime soon," Michael said, while Sara kept silent. He went on, halfway through incomprehension and suspicion. "I wouldn't think you'd be this upset."

"I'm not," she hastily said, shaking her head. "I'm just... surprised."

Michael let out a husky breath – he didn't mean to feel angry, and he didn't even understand why he did, at first – and then it hit him. They were breaking up, they were _officially_ breaking up, and yet they were discussing Kellerman. Had this guy seriously managed to ruin their relationship _and_ their breakup?

He clenched his teeth, and didn't even try to sound the doubts in his voice. "That's good news, right?"

She didn't like the tone he used. It was almost like irony. She spoke coldly. "Of course, why wouldn't it be? I'm just surprised he left like that."

Michael had a humorless laugh."What?" He said, before turning away. "You expected him to say goodbye?"

Sara got up from the bed; she was not going to take this. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

He had already opened the door to leave, but he stopped his act and turned back to her, before blurting. "Why did he get the opportunity to kiss you, Sara?"

She felt like she'd been punched in the chest when she understood what he meant by that. "You think I _let_ him?" She said. "Do you think that by any sort of way, I led him to think that he was allowed to?!"

"I don't know, I wasn't there!"

"No, you weren't! You're never there! You're never there when I need you, you're never there to rescue me, except when you already planned the attack so you'd know where and when!" Michael just froze, his eyes ablaze with anger. "I didn't _let_ him kiss me," Sara spat. "And I regret more than anything ever letting you."

Michael's anger slowly turned into pain. Deep, irreversible pain. Sara saw the affliction in his eyes, but she'd meant to hurt him. Because all her life, she'd blamed herself for everything that had ever went wrong, and now, so had he.

Michael put on an icy cold smile – it was either that or crying – as he put an end to the conversation. "See you later, Sara."

The way he said her name made the young woman's body shiver, and she gasped when he slammed the door behind him. For a few seconds, it felt as though the atmosphere of the room had been lowered to minus ten degrees. Then, without knowing why, Sara took her purse to search for the object that mattered to her most in the world. She looked at the origami flower Michael had made for her, and held it delicately in her tiny fist, and then, almost unconsciously, she started to cry.

The tears reminded her of the first time he'd walked inside that infirmary, with his confidence and natural charm, and it made her cry harder, even though the whole breakup hadn't. Because every tear reminded her of the moment they'd met, and every sob reminded her how, from that very day, she had hoped that they would end up together.

...

Michael and Lincoln entered the hospital.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I said I'm fine, Linc," Michael spoke sharply.

"Can I help you?" A young nurse asked.

They both turned around, and Lincoln stared at her a little bit. She had blonde hair, brown eyes, and he had to admit that she was undeniably beautiful.

"I'm sure you can," Michael said indifferently, "do you work here, hum..." He read the name on her badge. "Izzie?"

"Yes. What can I do for you ?"

"Hum..." Lincoln tried to remember the name of the girl who was attacked. "Yeah, we're looking for, hum – Cordelia Chase?"

"Are you family?" She asked.

"Friends," Lincoln lied.

"Come with me," she said, leading them to a room.

The young girl was laying weakly into bed; she had long dark hair, and her skin might have looked tanned if it wasn't for that sick paleness – though in spite of her current state, she looked rather aware.

"I'll give you a moment," Izzie said, leaving all three of them.

"Wh... who are you?" The young woman asked.

Michael approached. "Look, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I'd like you to tell me what attacked you?" He had spoken in a very serious tone, and Cordelia did the last thing either brothers expected her to do. She started to laugh.

She was still hilarious when she spoke. "Wow, you must be new here."

The brothers exchanged a startled look. "Hum... yeah," Michael admitted, "but..." He sighed and dropped the act. "Look, my girlfriend was just attacked, and her wound looked just like yours, I'm – I'm really lost here, and I can't help her and... please just tell me... what attacked you?"

Cordelia stopped laughing at the mention of Michael's girlfriend, but she was still smiling. "It was a vampire. Duh."

...

Sara went down stairs. The tears had quieted down a while ago, but her eyes were still red and puffy. She sniffed miserably as she walked downstairs. She attempted to make herself some hot chocolate, repressing the sensation of being a teenage girl, recovering from a rough breakup. She poured the boiling milk into a cup.

"Hello there." The sound of his voice made her jump, and drop the glass she held in her hand. His voice was one she would never forget.

She turned around with a gasp. "Jesus, Kellerman! You almost gave me a heart attack."

He grinned, in that almost friendly way – that I-know-something-you-don't-know-way.

Sara started to clean the milk spreading on the floor. "I won't deny I'm surprised to see you here," she said. "Michael and Lincoln thought you'd left."

"I did." He said evasively, remaining very calm.

"Where did you go?" She wondered, half careless, without looking at him. She was busy trying to clean all the shattered glass without hurting herself. He shook his head, and helped her clean the rest of the mess.

"I needed some time to think." He said for an answer.

She chuckled humorlessly. "So do I, but I warn people before I leave."

Paul noticed she was avoiding his eyes. "I didn't think that it would bother you," he said honestly.

He had promised himself to act carelessly, to not let himself be moved by her again. He needed not to care about her, he needed to only care about feeling the thrill of the hunt, the twisted pleasure it had always brought him. He so did not need for her to make him change his mind again.

"It didn't!" Sara said, immediately shocked by the suggestion he'd had the nerves to make. I... why would it?" Paul couldn't retain his smile at Sara's reaction; he loved how upset he'd just gotten her, but she wasn't finished. "You know, you have some nerves to say that to my face! I don't mind that you were gone! I was just surprised and... and see, that smirk you're making right now? How could I miss that smirk?"

This time he stopped himself from laughing. He'd just remembered he couldn't let himself think that her reaction was funny, he couldn't fall back into the trap and feel like she was his drug. This time, he had to think straight, to see things clearly. And he definitely could not look at her the way he was looking at her right now.

Sara just sighed from exasperation. She ran her hand through her auburn hair nervously. "Anyway," she said, "Michael took your room, just so you know." He raised an eyebrow, and she continued. "We thought you were gone and all so..." she shook her head. "Whatever."

She was about to leave when he spoke. "I thought Michael and you shared the same room."

"Yeah," she spoke bitterly – the tears were long done now, there was no doubt. "Well, not anymore."

Kellerman looked at her, trying to remain placid. Part of him wanted to ask her what was wrong, to comfort her – but it was too late for that; he had chosen Caroline over the team the second he had given her their location, he had already betrayed them. Betrayed her.

So instead, he did what he did best, he lied; that, he did very well. "What, you guys broke up?" He allowed himself a smirk – he could see the pain reverberating in her eyes. He shrugged, feigning indifference. "Weird. From what I've heard coming from your bedroom, it sounded like you were pretty close.

She ignored his comment. "Goodbye Kellerman," she said dryly, with every intention to walk out.

Even though he still annoyed her to the highest point, Sara wasn't really afraid of Paul anymore. That's why she couldn't hide her surprise when he blocked her way.

"Excuse me?" She managed.

He ignored her, and asked instead. "Where is Michael now?"

"H... He's talking to some girl –"She stuttered.

"So he's not home?" He interrupted.

Something in his tone made her think that he already knew the answer to that question.

"No," she said, her fear growing as he kept moving slowly toward her.

"And..." He said, still approaching her. "Lincoln?"

Sara swallowed, moving backwards until she was as far as she could go, and her back met the wall. Her breathing was getting a bit difficult. "He – he's with Michael."

"So," Paul said as he took one final step toward, her blocking her against the wall. "We're alone?"

Sara didn't answer his question. "Get away from me." She wanted her tone to sound authoritarian, but it was more like a scared plea. He didn't move, he just stared at her for seconds that seemed to last hours. Time had never been this long or this intense for Sara; she was captive of his blue gaze, it was so different from Michael's. He didn't release the hold he had on her; he wasn't even really touching her, just really, really close to it, letting her know that he was the one who had power.

Sara was about to scream for help when he took a step backwards, letting her go. She couldn't retain her relieved sigh. "Thank you," she said, as coldly as she could before she started walking away.

She was aiming for the door when she felt one of his hands wrapping around her waist, holding her still as he pressed the other one on mouth and nose. He was holding a piece of sheet, and it was soaked; Sara realized it was chloroform too late and she stopped breathing, trying not to inhale it. She tried to struggle but he was holding both her wrists pressed against herself, with one hand wrapped around her.

"Shh..." He whispered inside her ear. "Calm down, Sara, don't make this harder than it has to be."

Sara kept holding her breath until she just couldn't do it anymore. She gave up and breathed, inhaling the poisonous liquid. Then she felt a pounding in her head, like an echo, but it seemed like it was miles away; everything seemed very far, now.

The last thing she heard was him whispering "I'm sorry", with a voice she had already heard before. Then, everything went black.


	11. Chapter 11

'_If I can't be your true love, I want to be your worst nightmare' _Ariel Seraphino_._

Sara closed her eyes right after she managed to open them; the daylight seemed too bright for her eyes, at the moment. She could feel that her wrists had been taped together, and her legs as well. When she managed to open her eyes for more than five seconds, she realized she was lying down in the backseat of a car.

"Waking up yet?" Kellerman's voice pulled her out of numbness – made her realize that this was really happening.

He was driving the car, and she could see his reflection in the rearview mirror

"Where the hell am I?" It seemed like a legitimate reaction, but her voice felt hoarse and pasty, and she could hardly recognize it as her own.

"You don't need to worry about that." He answered evasively.

She managed to look out the window, and realized that they were on a deserted road surrounded by trees, and something was telling her that very few cars passed by.

"Let me go, right now." She tried to sound authoritarian, but it wasn't much more than a plea. Since she wasn't getting an answer, she began struggling against her ties, almost reflexively.

"Ah, you wouldn't be trying to cut yourself loose would you?" He said.

She saw his eyes follow her in the mirror. She ignored him, lowered her eyes whilst trying to look innocent, before she continued trying to untie herself, only more discreetly.

Of course, Kellerman wasn't fooled for one second. "Stop that, right now."

She didn't answer, but her eyes were caught in his in the mirror. Even in an indirect glance, he was capable to captive her with his eyes. In a bad way. He let her go of his hypnotizing look, so he could look back at the road. "Don't make me stop the car and tell you again face to face." It was meant to be a threat, but he said it softly.

She swallowed and decided to surrender temporarily.

"Why are you doing this?" She tried not to sound too supplicating. "Were you still with them in Sunnydale? Was all this just another one of your schemes?"

"Now Sara, I thought I had made clear that I was the one to be asking questions." His voice sounded horrible, like a sweetish purr – nothing but a self-defense mechanism. Nothing but another mask.

"Where are we going?" She asked, almost to change subject.

It made him exhale. "_What_ did I just say?"

She looked away. She could not believe she had been fooled by this man again. Well, okay, they had all been fooled, but it felt personal to her. A part of her wanted to break down right now, in this car, but she held back her tears. There was _no way_ she'd cry in front of him.

"Why did you even take me this time?" She wondered; asking questions was her way of remaining sane, at the moment, though her voice slightly broke when she finished. "I don't have anything you want anymore!"

His answer was both vague and terrifying. "So you think."

She didn't waste any more time before she struggled against her ties, trying to tear apart the thick layer of tape; in the meanwhile, Kellerman reported his attention to the street. They were almost there, he could recognize the trees. The place he was taking Sara was a lodge, and Paul knew by heart. During his first mission when he was eighteen, this lodge had been his safe place. No one beside the company knew the existence of it, and since Caroline had asked him to take Sara somewhere no one would find them, this had seemed like the right place.

He sighed, with slight weariness. His eyes should be on the road, yet he couldn't hold back a glance toward the backseat, through the mirror. Seeing her struggling with the tape, he was almost glad for her to give him something concrete to think about. "Hey!" He only shouted to make himself heard, but couldn't repress guilt to rush in as he saw her freeze in fear – yes, he believed it was fear. "I thought I'd told you to stop struggling." He expected her to look down in defeat, maybe just in terror, instead she focused back on the tape and ignored him, much to his surprise.

She was too close to success to stop right now, she could feel the tape was just about to tear, she only needed a little more time.

"Damn it," Paul cursed in a breath, before stopping the vehicle. Now, he expected he was about to see that frozen expression of terror.

Sara felt like her heart stopped the second she felt Kellerman was pulling over. She froze, and it almost could have looked funny if she hadn't been so scared. She heard her abductor curse once more before he got out of the car, and violently pulled the backseat door open. He could see the fear in her eyes now, but he was through playing good cop. "All right, Sara. We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. And trust me, it's not a place you want to explore more than you already have."

The young woman looked down, her eyes set fixedly onto the carpet of the floor; he wouldn't have insisted, to be honest, he really didn't like that fear in her eyes, but she wasn't looking at him and that part was crucial.

He took her face in one hand, forcing her eyes on him before he reiterated. "Do you understand, Sara?" Glaring daggers at him, she nodded reluctantly and he feigned not to notice. "Good," he spoke, mirthless. "Now let's check the damage you did on the tape."

He leaned over to check at her wrists when she lifted up both her hands to hit him in the face. This much, he wasn't expecting. Her wrists now untied, she ripped off the tape binding her legs together, hoping she'd have enough time to get out of the car. Kellerman recovered from the hit almost instantly, which was a lot sooner than she'd hoped. Before she could react, he imprisoned her wrists in his strong hands, raising them above her head and holding her still, pinning her to the backseat with his full weight, as he lay on top of her. She had no way out anymore, he knew it, and he knew that she knew it as well, yet she still tried to struggle – still tried to prove him wrong. He got so exasperated by her vain struggle he thought of hitting her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he just pressed against her harder, causing her to sink into the seat, and he used all his strength to hold her down until she could scarcely breathe.

Literally, he had never been so close to her, the only part of them that wasn't touching was their faces, and they were only inches from it. Sara gave up the fight, he felt her weak struggling stop, but he didn't release her. Instead he just warned. "You get one of those, one. After that, I'll make sure you won't ever run again, and you know I'm not the type to bluff."

He watched her swallow, her tiny body crushed by his, and he knew she was aware that he was a lot stronger than her and that if they were to fight face to face, there'd be hardly any struggle at all. He kept his hold on her a few more minutes that seemed to stretch for hours before he got up. He was happy to see that she didn't get up as well to try and run. In fact, she wasn't moving at all. She felt sore, tired and drained, and she didn't want to fight at all anymore. She didn't want to have to fight.

At that moment, it occurred to Paul Kellerman that the sight of her like this might have made anyone feel remorse. He only figured he wasn't just anyone. He picked the handcuffs from his belt and used them to tie Sara's hands behind her back. She felt the steel bracelet rub against her flesh and winced, but didn't say anything.

He ignored her expression and put her on her feet, before getting her out of the car. "Come on," he said, "you're coming with me." He took the drive seat and made her seat next to him. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

The rest of the trip went down without any of them saying a single word. Sometimes words just aren't enough.

...

Michael remained stunned for a few seconds, staring at the young woman before he managed. "So... vampires are a real thing, and everyone knows?"

"In Sunnydale, anyway," Cordelia specified, as though it'd make him feel better.

"And how long has it been since it's been like this?" Lincoln asked.

"Well, people had doubts at first," the girl shrugged, "and after the first apocalypse a few years back, it wasn't a secret to anyone."

"But – everyone?" Michael uttered. "Our neighbors? The people at the hospital?"

"What do you think?" Cordelia chuckled, "after all the weird cases they've seen!"

The brothers exchanged a look. "And, hum..." Michael sighed, "if vampires are in Sunnydale since so long, how come there's been so many attacks these past few weeks?"

Cordelia laughed again. "If I were you," she said for an answer, "I'd skip town."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, there's something happening. Something they're planning."

The fact that she didn't specify who 'they' were sounded extremely threatening. "Something big?" Lincoln asked.

"_World_ big. In fact, if you really have to know, if we fail, vampires aren't going to be a secret to anymore, because they'll be all over the world considering the human race as an all you can eat buffet."

It was impossible for Michael to imagine a future like that, and as cowardly as it might sound, he just didn't want to be involved in all this. He had enough to worry about.

"So..." Lincoln said, "the... hum, the vampires are eating people to gather strength because...?"

Michael couldn't help but close his eyes in despair. The fact that his brother, the most rational man he'd ever met, had used the words 'eating', 'strength' and 'vampires' in the same sentence felt against nature.

Cordelia answered naturally. "Because there's a war coming. A big one."

And that was what made the scale tip. "Wow," Michael turned to Linc. "Okay, we don't want to get involve in any kind of war whatsoever."

"I thought you said your girlfriend had been attacked." Cordelia said.

"So?" Michael wasn't sure how it was relevant, but he was pretty sure that it was bad news.

"Well, I'm sorry guys, but I'd say you're already involved in this. Soon, that's what every night is going be like, it's happening already. I never imagined in my life that I'd be involved in something that big either, actually in high school my biggest concern was prom. I didn't want to have anything to do with this, it just happened."

Michael had to retain a chuckle – a humorless, sarcastic one. "And you're saying that it's happening to us, right? Well, it can't be." He turned to his brother who'd gone disturbingly silent. "Come on, a war? A great battle where all forces of evil are reunited, and decided to eradicate the human race?"

"They're not trying to eliminate the human race, smartass," Cordelia pointed out, "then they would have nothing to eat, would they?"

And that was their cue to leave. "Okay," Michael said, "we need to go, thank you for your time." He grabbed his brother by the arm. "Let's go, Linc."

"Wait," Lincoln said, "Uh… what could we do about it? I mean, just grab a sword and go decapitate vampires?"

"Actually," Cordelia said apologetically, we're a bit more sophisticated than that, no offense. We're training, taking in recruits and while we prepare, they do as well, and there's more of them everyday."

"Linc, let's just go, we can't do anything about it."

His brother shrugged, and Michael remained stunned by shock; he couldn't believe Lincoln, of all people, was taking any of this seriously. "Well," he said, "you heard her, it's going to spread anyway if we don't do anything about it."

"Yeah, but Linc, it's crazy!" He tried to ring a bell. "Vampires? Crazy?"

They were interrupted when Izzie walked back in. "Miss Chase?" She said to Cordelia. "There's someone else here to see you."

"Well send them in," she shrugged. "It seems I'm very popular today."

"Yeah," Michael said, "well, we're just going to go, we're sorry we bothered you." He was getting ready to leave and take his brother with him, when Buffy Summers entered the room as the nurse left.

"Michael?" She seemed genuinely surprised to see them. "Lincoln? What are you two doing here?"

"You guys know each other?" Cordelia asked.

"Yeah," Buffy said, "they're the new neighbors who just arrived in town."

"The ones you were going to go meet to see if they were going to disturb the plan?"

"Cordy!" Buffy yelled.

"It's all right," the young woman said, "they know."

"No," Michael countered, "we don't know anything, and it's going to stay that way. Come, Linc."

"Hey, let's just slow down a sec," Buffy said, "you guys know about vampires?"

Michael had to resist the urge to shout. "No." _Please no_, he thought.

"Yeah," Cordelia answered, "he said his girlfriend was attacked by one."

"Sara?" Buffy said. "She was lucky to have made it alive."

"No," Michael persisted, "we're actually not sure what happened to her."

"Come on, Mike," Lincoln pointed out, "she did say she was attacked by a vampire."

"Linc, would you be on my side for a second?" Lincoln was about to say something, but he stopped to stare at Buffy. She was laughing. "Something amusing you?" Michael said, irritated.

She shook her head. "Whatever," she just seemed to find the two of them amusing, "look Cordy, I was just checking on you. You're coming back to the base tonight right?"

"Yeah, definitely."

"Good. I'll make sure you get your room back, Faith was crashing on your bed."

"Well, you tell her I'm back," Cordelia said laughing, yet oddly threatening.

"Okay," Michael sighed, "we shouldn't be here anyway. I don't want to leave Sara alone for too long, let's just go, Linc."

Buffy shrugged. "You can go, but it won't help."

Well, that was it, Michael thought. There were only so many buttons one could push before he burst. "All right look missy, the only reason I went to this town was to lead a life as normal as possible..."

"Wrong town." Buffy stated the obvious. She smiled seeing the two brothers exchange a look. "Come with me," she suggested. "I'm want to show you something."

...

Kellerman stopped the car as they arrived to the lodge. He took Sara by her arm and forced her to follow him. He wasn't being very gentle.

"I can walk by myself," she stated, rage burning in each of her words.

"No games here, Tancredi." He simply said, and continued to drag her until they'd reached the lodge. Once they were inside, he pushed her onto a red sofa. The room was small, but it looked nice, decorated; Sara guessed it had to be the living room. "Don't move from there," Paul said after locking the exit door. "There is no other way out of here," he added, "so don't bother."

Then he put the keys in his pocket and took his cell phone. Paul shortly glanced at Sara; he couldn't deny the fact that he had chosen this place because it was the only place that had ever felt like a home to him, and he didn't know why, but maybe in some way he'd wanted to share it with her. He closed his eyes in despair. Well, that was fucked up; really fucked up. No sharing going on at all, none whatsoever, in fact quite inconveniently, she was _handcuffed_ to her seat.

He shook his head, trying to chase the thought. Yeah, this lodge was his favorite place in the world. But right now, it didn't feel like home as much as Sara's apartment, it didn't feel as warm, or as comfortable. And then he realized against his will that it wasn't her apartment that felt so good, it was her. Maybe that's why he'd brought her here.

He shook off the sensation as he dialed Caroline's number. "Hello?" He heard her say.

"It's Kellerman. I got her."

Sara felt her stomach tighten; she knew that there was nothing else that these people could possibly want from her, so it was simply a way to manipulate Michael, it had to be. For a second she blamed him, but then she thought that he'd probably blame himself a thousand time more.

"Good," Caroline said, "now call Scofield and tell him we have his sweetheart."

"I'm on it," Kellerman didn't waste any more time before hanging up. He turned his head back to Sara and sighed.

She swallowed, doing her best to sound impassive. "What?" She wondered. "Are you going to torture me again?"

"Depends."

"Would you at least stop being evasive?" She sounded cold, but she wanted to shout. "Why don't you just give it to me straight, Kellerman? Would it kill you to tell me the truth for once in your life?"

He chuckled, humorlessly. "All right," he specified, "it depends whether your boyfriend do as we say, or whether he decides to play smart, which is funny, because playing smart would be extremely stupid right now. I, for one, do not wish to harm you, and I hope that I won't have to do so, only because your boyfriend tried to play genius."

Sara remained silent for a few seconds before she only asserted. "He won't give it to you."

"Come again?" Kellerman said.

"The tape." She specified. "That's what you're after, isn't it? He won't give it to you."

Paul chuckled slightly. "Well, we've got you as leverage, don't we? I'll make sure he does anything we tell him."

"He doesn't care anymore," Sara lied, "I told you. We split up."

"It doesn't mean he doesn't care about you. It doesn't mean he won't do exactly what we say."

"Really, are you that certain of it?"

Paul smirked, entirely mirthless as he walked to her and leaned forward so that his face was at the exact same height as hers. "I am certain of it." He confirmed, almost softly. "Because if he doesn't, I'll hurt you so bad that our little adventure in that motel room, in Gila, will feel like a vacation."

Sara glared at him and looked away, though despite the attitude, it was impossible not to see how scared she was. She was meant to be scared, Kellerman knew that, that's why he'd threatened her, and so he kept waiting for the excitement to come, this thrill… but it just wouldn't.

He moved away and dialed Michael's number on his cell.

...

Buffy took them to a big house, which was probably her own. "This way," she led them to the backyard.

Michael let Buffy walk ahead of them. "Look," he whispered to his brother, "how far are we going to take this? What is this going to prove?"

"I don't know," Lincoln was whispering as well, "but I'm curious to know, that's why I'm here."

"I can hear you by the way," Buffy spoke loudly enough.

Michael and Lincoln exchanged a look. Lincoln spoke with his lips only. '_What the hell?'_

"Heard that too," Buffy said casually, still walking ahead.

"Okay, fine," Lincoln surrendered. "Then what are you? Wonder woman?"

She giggled and turned around to face him. "You wish."

She led them to the yard, and Michael couldn't stop his mouth from dropping wide open; he had never seen anything like this. There were dozens of people, training with swords, crossbows... and then there were those who were in levitation, or blowing fire out of there mouths like dragons, while some amused themselves by disappearing only to appear somewhere else.

"Oh crap." Lincoln let out, kind of as though the place curiosity led to didn't please him at all.

Michael swallowed, with the sole desire to close his eyes and forget this. He turned to his brother, expecting to see the same reaction he had, only he looked amazed. As if it were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Looking at him right now, Michael recognized his brother as a child, in fact for the first time since Fox River, he looked peaceful.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" Buffy said.

Michael turned to her, while his brother was still staring at the view. "Why did you take us here?" Michael asked, his deep blue eyes darkened by uncertainty.

Buffy answered calmly. "Because whatever you decide to do, at least now you know."

"And you?" Michael asked. "Are you... a vampire? Or a witch?"

She laughed. "No, trust me if I were a vampire, I'd have a worse attitude than now."

"Then..." Lincoln said, his eyes leaving the amazing sight to look at the young woman. "You're just a human who decided to make a difference in the world?"

Buffy chuckled. "You make it sound so patriotic. Let's say I'm the one girl in this world who's supposed to fight vampires. It's what I was born for."

Michael couldn't repress a cold a smile. "Did the holly mother tell you this?"

Buffy smiled back, but didn't laugh. "No, actually, every slayer has a watcher, who will watch over her."

"A slayer?"

"Yeah," Buffy answered, quite seriously. "A vampire slayer."

"So," Michael arched a brow, "you just spend your life risking to get killed for the human race, and they're never even going to know?"

"Well, it sounds a little poetic, doesn't it?" Then she quoted, for all justification. "_Be the change you want to see in the world_."

That's all it took for Sara to jump back into Michael's mind. He couldn't believe that he had forgotten her for a second. "I'm sorry," Michael turned around. "We have to go."

"But –" the young woman started.

"I'm sorry," Michael repeated, "I really am, but Sara's alone, and probably scared right now and – well, she's what I was born for." And when he started walking away, he almost ran.

"Mike, wait!" Lincoln shouted once they were both in the street. "Michael, you can't just ignore what we saw."

"What else do you want to do, Linc? You want to go fight at war?"

"I want you to realize how big this is."

"I do realize!" The young man said, "But I don't want to. You know what I want ? I want to go back to Sara and keep her safe, I want to her things are going to be okay. What I do not want to tell her is that there's a war against vampires going on three houses away from ours!"

Lincoln sighed. "You know what I think? I think you just wanna forget what we just saw, because you're scared."

"Of course I'm scared!" Michael shouted. "I'm scared because I brought Sara in enough trouble without adding World War 3, okay? I'm scared because I have someone to be scared for! Would you tell me that you would have been so willing to fight vampires if you had to bring Veronica into it?"

Michael saw his brother's eyes double size. "You take that back." Was all he said, before jumping on his brother, more with uncontrolled strength than actual violence, causing both of them to fall on the floor. Michael was on his feet first, ready to punch if necessary, but when his brother got up, all he did was stare at him.

Lincoln stared at his brother right in the eye. "You know, at least at the end of the day, you have someone to go home to. You want to know what I think is not fair? That even in the best scenario, say the President is recognized guilty and I'm a free man and this vampire war is won and everything's back to where it was, even then Mike, my happy ending's dead."

Michael swallowed. "I'm sorry Linc. I shouldn't have said that, I shouldn't have talked about her –"

"You know what you can do for me, Mike?" His brother ignored him. "You can go back home and fix things with Sara, and whatever you do... don't let her get away. Because that's the kind of things you will never forgive yourself for."

Michael's cell phone rang, breaking the moment. "Damn it," he said, before checking the caller ID. He couldn't help but grin. "It's Sara." Her name seemed to have illuminated his face.

"Better pick up then."

Michael answered the phone. "Hey Sara," he said, apologetic, "sorry we're taking so long, it's just that –"

"You really don't stand up to your genius reputation, Scofield."

He recognized the voice immediately. "Kellerman?"

"You two really made this to easy for me, leaving her all by herself in this big scary house..."

"You twisted –" he couldn't even find a worthy insult to continue with. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing for now. As for the rest, it depends on whether or not you do as I say.

"And what is it you want?" Michael uttered through clenched teeth.

"The tape, Scofield. All you have to do is give me the tape, and you can get your pretty little girlfriend back."

"I want to talk to her," Michael said.

"And you will." Kellerman promised over the phone. "I assure you. Right now though, you're just going to have to take my word that she's all right. I'll call you in a couple of hours to make the proper arrangements. When I do call you, I hope you'll have made some progress."

"Look, Cooper Green has this tape right now, I can't just get it back. It's impossible –"

" Michael," Kellerman interrupted, "you broke out of Fox River and you made it out alive so far. Now _that_ was impossible, but you had motivation, so just consider Sara as... well, motivation."

He hung up and Michael felt his fists tighten instantly, nearly breaking his cell phone. He couldn't give him the tape, first of all because the tape was probably in Chicago by now, and he didn't know how to get it back, and also because if he gave him the tape, then his brother's freedom was officially canceled. Michael shut his eyes closed. He had sacrificed many people for his brother's freedom, but he wouldn't sacrifice her. Just... not her. Because Lincoln was right. If Sara was taken away from him right now, he would never forgive himself.

...

Paul hung up the phone. "Don't worry," he said looking at his prisoner, "I'm sure Scofield will do what's necessary to save your life."

Sara ignored him, her eyes avoiding his. "Why didn't you let me talk to him?" She tried to stop her voice from trembling.

"You can talk to him when I know he's made some progress." Sara didn't answer, hiding her face behind her long auburn locks, and Kellerman hesitated slightly before he went on. "I didn't lie to you when I said I cared about you." He didn't care that she'd only hate him more for saying it. "I do, care about you," he specified, "that's why I sincerely hope that your boyfriend cares for you as much as you care for him."

"He won't," she simply stated. "He won't give you his brother's freedom, not for anything in the world."

"Well, for your sake I hope you're wrong." Paul said; if he sounded earnest, even damned near solemn, Sara wasn't so much as looking at him. He went on nonetheless. "I don't want to hurt you, Sara," he insisted, and he could have slapped himself for sounding so gentle. "But I will if I'm given the order to."

"Yeah," she retorted dryly, her face still concealed by long auburn hair, "I'm aware of that."

Surrendering, Kellerman looked away. The sun had started to disappear out the window, and the only light that remained in the room was a single ray of sun, shining upon her face. He torn his eyes from her; he didn't want lose himself again, he didn't want to feel the way he felt when he came to taunt her, to torment her only because he had to see her – and since he could never be her one true love, why not be her worst nightmare?

That's when the door opened wide, and two men got in.

"So that's where you took Scofield's girlfriend?" One of them said, looking at Paul. "Lovely." He commented, almost genuine.

Paul looked at the two men; he'd never worked with any of them before, so he assumed that they were from the company. But since they had the keys to this place, they had to be working with Caroline; that, he didn't approve, he didn't like that she sent gorillas to watch him, as though he wasn't capable of handling himself, and plainly, he didn't like that invaders had just entered his house.

"Get the hell out of here," Paul said for a greeting. "I can handle the situation on my own."

"Oh, but you see," the first man who had spoken went on, "The boss had us drive all the way down here to keep an eye on yah, so that you wouldn't screw things up?"

Sara didn't recognize the other man, but the one who had just spoken looked horribly familiar. Theodore Bagwell. She knew him because he was one of the Fox River convicts who had escaped with Michael, but also because she'd treated him since the beginning of his incarceration. She was beyond repelled to think that she had let the door open for him. Michael had just made it sound so much more romantic.

"So," the ex-con set his eyes on the young woman, enjoying himself with some sort of bemusement, like a kid watching dramatic television show. "Pretty ended up with the doc anyhow, huh? Kind of knew it."

Kellerman scowled. "I said I got things handled."

"Well, we're here to make sure of that," the other man said, apologetic but determined.

He looked like a typical company man, with his brand new suit, clean haircut and impassive expression, but what Sara didn't understand was how Bagwell had ended up working with them. He'd probably turned up having the right information at the right time; he was the kind of man who got lucky that way, she figured, remembering that a cockroach could hold its breath for forty minutes and live a full week without its head. Yes, that's what Theodore Bagwell reminded her of, right now; a cockroach.

"Yeah," T-bag approved, "we're here to make sure you don't lose that girl in the nature. Imagine how sad it'd be, a pretty little thing like her wandering all alone at night?"

Sara kept her eyes fixedly set on the wall; the situation was horrible, she was simply choosing to ignore it since there wasn't much she could do about it.

"Look," Paul reiterated, "I'll talk to the president myself. I can handle Scofield's girlfriend, what I don't need is intruders messing with my business."

"Your business?" T-bag echoed. "Scofield's business is my business." Once again, Sara was tempted to blame Michael when he sat next to her. Instead, she made herself as small as possible. "Missing your boyfriend, beautiful?"

Sara was pretty sure that to merely be called beautiful by someone like T-bag was degrading, but again, she did her best not to react, keeping her head as far away from him as far as she could. To simply have him near her made her nauseous, though she figured that to throw up in front of Theodore Bagwell, a company agent and, worst of all, Paul Kellerman, wouldn't actually make the situation better.

Kellerman was tempted to plainly rip the man off Sara's side, but he controlled his urges. He understood what was going on here, in fact between the two men's arrival and the comment Caroline had made about Sara during their last conversation, after their night together, it was crystal clear. She was testing him. She was testing him and even though she had chosen Sara Tancredi as a guinea pig, he had to succeed that test. Though he felt his teeth clench the second Bagwell sat next to Sara. He knew, that deep down inside her, she was hoping that he would save her; it might not even be conscious, but he was a familiar face and she was surrounded by coldhearted men who'd have no problem whatsoever in killing her. And she was hoping he'd save her, that he'd take this authoritarian voice and shout at Bagwell to behave himself, if only to act professionally. Above all, hoping that the few moments spent in Sunnydale weren't lies.

But he remained cold; and then, after saying something that Paul couldn't quite make out, but that made Sara close her eyes in disgust, Bagwell brushed her cheek with his fingers, and Kellerman just couldn't take it. Too disgusting, too much. It was like watching a slug drool on a butterfly.

Kellerman ripped the man off of her, and didn't even realize he had until his hands were locked around his neck, and he was pinning Bagwell to the wooden wall.

It had been beyond his control, really, all he'd known was that he needed to get Bagwell's perverted hands away from his Sara. He hadn't even had time to think that he had just failed the first test, and that she wasn't his Sara.

Regaining his calm, he tried to save the situation, so that agent heart-of-stone staring at both of them, standing straight like a statue, wouldn't report all of this to Caroline. He kept his eyes into Bagwell, even though the sight of him disgusted him a little. "That's not what she's here for." He said, sounding as professional as they come.

"Relax Romeo, I was just having some fun." Although there was something about the way T-bag said it, as though he wasn't exactly defending himself – he'd been expecting this. He'd _planned_ this. Or more accurately, someone had planned it for him.

Still Kellerman felt anger invade him as he pushed him down, stating. "She's not here for your _fun,_ you pervert.

T-bag got back on his feet, laughing. "I didn't realize she was only here for yours."

And the hell with that test, Paul figured, he wasn't doing this their way. "Get out of here," he said, "both of you."

"Oh I don't think so," the other man said, pushing a fold of black jacket to reveal a 9mm.

Kellerman wasn't scared of him, he was carrying a gun too actually, only his was in a box, hidden in a drawer in the bedroom, and something told him he wouldn't get to it fast enough. It'd kill him to be polite, but he figured the situation was extreme enough. He cleared his throat. "Look gentlemen, we all want the same thing, we all work for the same people."

" Yeah we do," T-bag said with a smirk, which Kellerman would have gladly punched off. "But you ain't calling the shots. See, boss asked us to report everything that happens here, and I really don't want to tell her that you're getting all protective of Scofield's girlfriend." And then he repeated. "See?"

Paul swallowed invisibly, and glanced at Sara one last time before he shrugged, radiating nothing but carelessness. "She's all yours."

...

"Look, you can't just ignore me Mike." Lincoln said, almost running after his brother. "If Kellerman has Sara, I don't care what we have to do, we've got to get her back! I don't care if we have to give that son of a bitch the tape, we –"

"We're not giving him the tape and we're not giving up Sara!" Michael shouted, "We're going to find a way." He didn't explain further, instead he just walked back towards Buffy's house. He ignored Lincoln's questions as he approached the house and knocked on the door. A young woman opened the door; she was younger than him, she had a pale white skin, red long hair and big brown eyes.

"Can I help you?" She sounded kind, although there was coldness in her voice.

" I need to talk to Buffy." He simply said.

"And you are?"

"Can I just please come in?" Michael lost patience.

The young woman didn't answer; she had learned with time to be very careful to whom she invited inside her house. "Buffy!" She called. The young woman arrived a few moments later. "They say they want to talk to you," the young redhead said, "I didn't know whether they were vampires are not –"

"No, they're okay, I know them." Buffy said before letting them in. "Willow, could you leave us for a second?" She asked the young woman.

"Sure." Willow climbed up the stairs, leaving them alone.

"What's going on?" Buffy wondered.

"This war you talked about?" Michael said without a single hesitation. "I'm in."

"What?" Buffy's brows furrowed in startle.

"Yeah, _what_?" Lincoln managed.

"I learn fast enough," Michael went on, "I'm smart, I'm sure you could use a guy like me."

"Right now," Buffy corrected, "we could use anyone."

"There's a condition," Michael said.

Buffy frowned.

"Someone took Sara," the young man explained, "and they're going to kill her if I don't do something, something that I can't do in time. And I want you to help me get her back."


	12. Chapter 12

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, I've deleted the rest of my chapters for now but I'll add them up as I go; I won't change much about the plot anyway, I'll only modify the dialogues and a bit of in between. If there's a chance anyone's still reading that story, I always appreciate reviews; enjoy. WARNINGS: SLURS**

"_If there's anything I hate worse than pity, it's fake pity. _

– _I have no pity."_

_**Red Dragon**_

Kellerman had no idea people could change a place so much. The lodge used to feel like his shelter, his home. And it was now starting to be a place he hated.

Paul couldn't tell how long it had been since T-bag and the company's man had "entered" the lodge. Bagwell was sitting next to Sara, groping her, whispering to her, while she just looked into the opposite direction and tried to keep it together; the company man was standing up, blocking the door. Paul didn't know whom exactly he was keeping from leaving, nor did he know the orders that had been given to him by Caroline.

The sight of an animal like T-bag this close to Sara Tancredi looked wrong, and it made something inside of Paul Kellerman him ache, deep inside; it looked against nature, about as repelling as the thought of a cockroach crawling across a fair maiden's skin. And there was something wrong about how vulnerable the young woman looked, and helpless. In fact, Kellerman found it so disturbing he could barely stand to be in this room right now, and he both wished to leave and prayed he wouldn't have to – as odd as it sounds, it would feel like abandoning her.

Instead, he started paying attention to the other agent Caroline had sent. Kellerman looked at the man, as though trying to block out Sara's distress. "So, are you going to tell me your name?"

"We're not here to get to know each other."

"Just trying to make conversation."

The man seemed to hesitate for a few seconds before he finally answered. "I'm Alex Mahone."

"And in what consist exactly the orders Caroline gave you?"

Mahone stared at his interlocutor for a while, as though both suspicious and slightly outraged to hear Kellerman call his employer by her first name. Ultimately, agent Malone threw a quick glance towards Sara before answering, as though he hadn't really noticed her before.

"That's more of a private conversation," he settled, and paused for a few seconds before he offered. "Do you want to take a walk?"

Paul glanced at Sara before saying anything else, and he was aware of how much she hated for him to see her like this – and yet something beyond shame and hatred and her eyes was begging him not to go. Kellerman had seen enough of Sara to know that she was the type to remain pride till the very last moment, in fact right before he left her to drown inside that bathtub back in Gila, he remembered her head had been held high. But beneath that pride, he could tell she was faltering – he could tell that beneath her stone-hard never ending attitude, she was as scared and defenseless as anyone would be. And looking at him the way she was, he was pretty sure she held her breath until he spoke.

"Sure." He finally answered.

He shook off the sensation to have just signed the young woman's death warrant. Kellerman felt her eyes on him until he had left the room and exited the lodge; he followed Mahone outside, even though part of his brain was still focused on Sara. If he thought it was painful before to imagine that she was with Scofield, it felt so much harder now, and the nature of the discomfort was much worse.

"So?" Paul said, trying to force his head back in the game. "Is that something else she asked you to do? To get me to leave the room, to see if I would?"

"Can't hide anything from you, agent Kellerman."

'_Stop thinking about her, Paul, just focus on now_, _not the room you left her in and are now walking further away from, not this sick pervert who's alone with her, not her_.'

"I know Caroline too well for her to be able to hide things from me," Paul forced on a smirk, "and if she thinks I won't sacrifice an insignificant pawn as Sara Tancredi to keep my job ,then she doesn't know who she's dealing with."

"I actually haven't been given details concerning your particular situation," Mahone said, "but I'm not naïve. Between the information I gathered before I got here and what happened ever since, I'm doing a nice job putting the pieces together so that the big picture is looking clear enough. "

"And what might that be?" _Stop thinking about her, Paul, you just can't focus can you? How is it your mind can be detached from your body and bound to hers?_

"That you ended up growing quite fond of the girl," Mahone said, waving his head toward the lodge that was now far behind them. "Foremost, that Caroline wonders how far you'll be willing to go for the job."

Kellerman snapped through his nervousness. "I already told her I'd go all the way_." Oh really? Even if you have to kill her, Paul? Would you kill her? How much more blood are you ready to spill for Caroline Reynolds? What kind of man kills on demand just because he has been told to do so? What kind of man kills without restrain? What kind of man kills the woman he loves?_

"I don't doubt that, agent Kellerman, I'm just here for verification."

"And what is Bagwell here for?" Paul stopped walking – stopped dancing around. "What more does Sara Tancredi need to be put through to satisfy Caroline's insecurity?" He couldn't contain the anger in his voice.

"I don't enjoy an innocent person's suffering either," Mahone stopped walking as well, "but I guess I got used to it with time."

Paul couldn't help a glance at the lodge. He preferred not to think of what was happening in there. "Why don't you and your watchdog go back where to you came from and let me finish my goddamn job?"

"You know why as much as I do," Mahone pointed out before stating. "Rules are the rules."

...

Michael just waited. Waiting was all there was to do. He wanted to plan, he wanted to help but he couldn't. All he could do was being worried sick and wait. The brothers had learned that the redhead –Willow– apparently knew a bit of witchcraft, and that she would try to do a tracking spell on Sara; all she needed for that was a crystal, a map, and something that belonged to her, she'd said. Something personal would work better.

Michael had searched all over the house to find the right object before he spotted the origami rose he had made for her on the bedside table. He couldn't help feeling a slight reluctance when he handed it to Willow. Now he was alone with his brother, waiting in Buffy's living room for some good news.

"You think she's all right?" Lincoln broke the silence.

Michael glared at him. "How the hell am I supposed to know?" He articulated.

"Look, I worry about her too."

"Don't try to compare the situations. You don't know what I'm feeling right now."

Lincoln had a humorless laugh. "Funny," he said without humor, "Sara's been kidnapped by a sadist torturer, and you're talking about how you're feeling."

Michael got up, uncertain of his own intentions before the door opened. Buffy and Willow walked in the room. "She's in Napa," Willow said immediately.

Michael's heart filled with hope. "You found her?"

"I saw her. She's in a lodge out of town, that's all I can tell you."

"Is she okay?" The young man's voice was lost in emotion, while Willow exchanged a look with Buffy, as if they'd both discussed a particularly delicate topic. "Well, is she?"

"She's alive, but you better hurry," the young witch said, awkwardly stumbling on words. "She, hum... she's in trouble."

...

"So you and pretty boy, hum? I always knew you had a thing for the dangerous kind."

"He's not." Sara spoke through gritted teeth. At first, she'd promised herself that she wouldn't do Bagwell the pleasure of responding to him whatsoever, but then she figured if she could win a little time by talking, it wasn't exactly beneath her. He'd snaked a hand around her neck a while ago, and although she did her best to ignore it, it felt as uncomfortable as to have a spider crawling up your throat, and she was about as tense as could be at the moment. The only thought that kept her going was the image of a burning bath and extra soap.

Sara kept her teeth clenched tightly; she despised talking to him, always had even when he had been her patient, and she would rather keep her mouth shut at the moment, but part of her knew that talking was the best scenario for her right now.

"Well," he went on, "from what I've heard, pretty's not the only bad boy you've been playing the naughty with." His voice was a sickly purr, but also a bit more serious than just teasing – it almost sounded like a bad student who did his homework and tries to subtly brag about all he's learnt.

Surprise pierced through, and Sara felt a bit relieved to have something other to focus on than her disgust. "What?" She stopped avoiding his gaze, wrenched her eyes from the wall she'd been staring at for god knew how long.

Theodore stared back at her, still serious for a while before he went back to that drawling voice that made it clear he'd never enjoyed himself more than right now. "Well, why'd you think I'm here, gorgeous?" Sara tried to focus on his words, tried to pay genuine attention, tried to focus on anything other than Bagwell's fingers lowering to the line of her shirt. "I'm here to make sure agent heartbreaker's loyal to his job before being loyal to you."

And now, she felt a bit of anger through her disgust. When had that asshole ever been loyal to her? He had betrayed her the most cruel way possible, and had still managed to surprise her when he'd betrayed again, which she could only assume he had prepared weeks before, because given the way he'd abducted her in the kitchen, aided by chloroform, he'd probably wanted it to have a certain amount of style. She wasn't sure which man she hated most right now, the animal who'd started to dive into her cleavage with his fingers or the man who had brought her here.

She couldn't believe how naive she'd been to believe him. She couldn't believe she had come to get used to his presence in their house in Sunnydale. She couldn't believe she had started to think of him as a human being instead of ruthless torturer. She really, really couldn't believe what an idiot she was.

Theodore chuckled in her ear, apparently having the time of his life, like a cruel child who enjoys tearing an insect's wings apart. "I've heard that the boy has an high school crush on you," he said, and T-bag's breath on her neck made something inside of her chill – it was only his proximity, she swore to herself, and not his words that had this effect on her. He finished with a slight sigh. "Don't it just break your heart?" He laughed to himself again, and shook his head before pursuing. "So, you see, I'm here to make sure the boy knows his priorities."

Sara's fingernails dug into her palms, and the discomfort in her stomach slowly started to mutate into fear as he started unbuttoning her shirt, taking his time. She swallowed with difficult; she had to stall some more, but she was absolutely out of ideas. "Well," she managed, "it's really unnecessary, because he doesn't care about me."

She tried to pull away from him discretely and froze when he locked a hand around her waist, quick as a snake, his hand shutting tight around her hip. "Leaving so soon, darling? We're just getting to the good part."

"Please." She'd also promised herself that she wouldn't beg, but come to think of it there was nothing she could do to help it.

"Just relax," he scolded softly, almost actually caring, as though he wasn't enjoying every bit of the fear his words provoked in her eyes. "It won't hurt much if you don't fight."

Hundreds thoughts were popping inside her mind right now, as though her brain was going into hyperventilation. Did Kellerman and the other agent lock the door behind them? How much time would she get to run if she managed to get rid of Bagwell somehow? Not very far with her hands tied behind her back, but right now the priority was getting this man off of her, the other important question followed the previous ones : where was she? Would she be able to run and lose her abductors? Then another question just crushed in her mind, heavy as a rock dropping into her chest as she acknowledged for the first time the inward pain since she had been taken here. How could Kellerman leave her with him? She knew Paul didn't have any obligations toward her, but if the situations were reversed she couldn't have left anyone in the situation she was in right now.

Definitely not, she mentally stated as her tormenter started stroking her over the bra with rough hands, his lips so close to her throat she could feel threads of saliva sticking to her skin. "You miss your boyfriend now I bet, don't you?"

And suddenly, out of all hope, Sara started to think like Michael. She detailed the tiny suffocating room with her eyes, searching for anything that would help her, any advantages she could think of. Then it hit her, that T-bag wasn't concentrating right now, in fact it was the only upside of this sick game, he was getting lost in it, which meant the only asset she had over him was the effect of surprise. She felt his arm around her waist losing its grip while his other hand wandered on under her half button shirt, feeling the skin of her bare stomach. She tensed but resisted any urges to fight him; she was waiting for the right moment, she would wait until he was sure she wouldn't fight him. He was basically on top of her now, the hand he had holding her still a moment ago was now busy unbuttoning his pants; she wasn't one hundred percent sure this was the right moment, but she was definitely sure that in a few seconds, it wouldn't matter anyway.

She kicked him in the groin with her knee, hard, without giving him time to think; she didn't wait a second before running to the bathroom and shutting the door close with her foot.

"Come on!" She said to herself, trying to find balance on one leg to lock the door. She managed to close the lock half a second before Bagwell reached the doorknob, and then she heard banging on the door.

"You know, Sara, since I know you and all, I'm gonna make you a deal." She could hear him distinctly through the door. "You open this door right now and I won't hold this whole running away thing against you. It's the best you've got, honey, and that offer expires in five seconds! And I can assure you that whatever pain you've ever gone through in your life is going to feel like heaven compared to what's expecting you if you don't open the goddamn door!"

Sara tried to ignore how much she was shaking and sat on the ground; she needed to take things slow, she needed to focus, and it was rather impossible with the heavy pounding that screamed its menace into her ears. She ignored the rush, pretended she was inside a hospital right now, trying to think this was just another extreme situation that she needed to handle with calm and patience. She dragged in a deep breath and gave herself a few seconds to calm down before she tried to put her hands in front of her, by passing her handcuffs under her whole body. She wasn't in a much better position when she succeeded, but it was at least that.

T-bag just kept trying to break the door, and Sara couldn't help but being brought back to the riot, months ago. It had been about as terrifying, except she knew the situation was even worse now. Because no Michael Scofield would save her this time. When she realized the door was about to give in, she rushed towards the window. It was a little small, but she would fit. It was still better than the alternative. Although she had trouble opening it with her still tied up hands; in the end, instinct took over and she kicked it down with her foot.

The glass finally broke and she managed to get out the small window, and let out a silent gasp when she cut herself to the arm with a piece of sharp glass. By the time the door was finally kicked in, she was already out.

She didn't wait long before getting back on her feet and starting to run, but she was satisfied to see that T-bag couldn't make his way out the window. Her relief didn't last long since she knew it would take him about five seconds to get to the door and leave, and so she ran as fast as possible with her hands tied up, ran as though her life depended on it, ran with the frenzied desperation of a damsel in distress, and all the sudden, running along the woods, she remembered Little Red Riding Hood. Her mother used to read it to her before she died, and it was silly that Sara would think of it now – the thought was about as silly as unshakable. Because that's exactly what she felt like, right now; like little red riding hood, running blindly into the woods, towards god knew what big bad wolf.

She wasn't sure where she was running to, mainly she was focused on losing Bagwell, then she figured she'd get back to the road, maybe she'd even run into a car with a little luck. She stopped for a few seconds, only to catch her breath, and obliviously, she wondered why T-bag hadn't yet caught up with her. She'd never been a fast runner, sports were the only thing she sucked at in high school, and the fact that her hands were cuffed together really couldn't help her. Bagwell should have caught up with her right now.

And then, the most beautiful thought in the world occurred to her; what if Kellerman had locked the lodge's exit door on his way out? Had he? And maybe Theodore Bagwell didn't have a key. Still breathless and exhausted, she started to laugh in relief; the simple thought of him locked inside that lodge and how furious he was, although he terrified her minutes earlier, now seemed to make her hilarious. She tried to calm down, breathed out a curse as she finally managed to think more clearly. Well, at least her life wasn't boring. Though given she was still in an unknown place with two trained assassins and an escaped rapist on her tracks, she didn't waste much time before she started running again.

She threw a glance behind her shoulder to make sure she'd really lost T-bag, and smiled at the clear coast. She turned back around with ever intention to keep on running, and jumped with a loud gasp when she hustled into the company guy that was watching her earlier.

She had absolutely zero time to react before he grabbed her. "What the hell are you doing here?" Kellerman said while she faintly struggled against Mahone. Sara didn't answer him, and it was only under Paul's attentive gaze that she realized what she must have looked like, with blood dripping down her arm and her shirt unbuttoned halfway down.

She let out a sigh that sounded more like a grunt as she gave in and stopped struggling against the agent's grip. "Get of me." She hissed.

"It's all right," Kellerman sighed, "let her go, I've got this." He grinned at Mahone's reluctance. "What? You're scared you can't handle a handcuffed woman?"

Mahone gritted his teeth but he obeyed. And obviously, Sara tried to escape the second she'd been let go of. Kellerman grabbed her arm. "Easy."

"Don't touch me." She retorted and pulled away violently while Mahone cussed.

"I swear, I'm going to kill Bagwell. Can't do a thing right, this one."

Paul remained silent; he had no idea the state Bagwell was in right now and he didn't really care, his mind was fully occupied on Sara. Truth be told, he was kind of impressed she had managed to get away, though he had no idea how; he just hoped Bagwell hadn't hurt her too bad. He observed she seemed to be in state of shock, and the way she'd pulled away from him just now, as vehemently as if his touch set her skin on fire, it made him feel – shameful.

Sara didn't say anything, she much preferred grieve the loss of her freedom in silence. She knew very well that her only chase of escaping had been blown away the second she had run into her abductors. Kellerman kept his eyes on her, appraising her shortly before he spoke. "Mahone, why don't you go back to the lodge and check on Bagwell? I'll take care of our young friend here."

Despite her will, Sara shivered when Paul mentioned her.

"That's not what the orders were," Mahone pointed out.

Kellerman rolled his eyes, annoyed. "Well, the orders changed the second she ran away, now would you stop babysitting me for a second and go check on the damages?"

Mahone hesitated a second before starting to walk back to the lodge. Sara couldn't exactly put a name on what she felt when she was alone with Paul, and the ambiguity had never more unnerved her than right now. She felt angry at him, because he'd left her to her fate earlier with Bagwell, she was furious that he'd gotten her into this mess in the first place – but she wasn't scared, oddly. Which was a little stupid, she figured. Paul sighed when he turned to look at her, like a parent facing a particularly turbulent child, before he skimmed his eyes over her and said. "What am I going do about you?"

...

"Are you sure it's that way?" Lincoln asked, seeing his little brother turn right.

"Yeah."

A short silence set in before Lincoln summed up. "So we're looking for a little lodge out of town, except nobody we talked to has ever heard of one?"

"That's exactly why I'm sure she's there," Michael answered. Then a certain thought hit him and he cursed.

"What?" His brother frowned.

"I think we're running out of gas, I forgot to refill."

"Well, I saw a station a few minutes ago, we just have to go back."

Michael sighed before making a u-turn. "I'm tired of wasting time. You heard what Willow said, Sara's in trouble."

"It's just a few minutes Mike. There's nothing you can do for her if we can't get to her."

"Yeah, I just..." Michael said, shaking his head, "I'm just worried that's all."

They reached the station a few minutes later, and while Linc tanked up, Michael talked to the owner. "So um, we kind of asked everyone around, but, hum... you wouldn't happen to know if there's a lodge nearby, would you?"

The guy shook his head. "Not that I know of."

"That's fine." Though the young man didn't bother to hide his disappointment. He paid the guy and went back in the car with his brother, and the owner didn't wait a second before dialing his boss's number on his phone.

"Yeah it's me," he said, "just thought you'd like to know that two men matching Lincoln Burrows and Michael Scofield's description just stopped at my station to ask me where they could find a lodge."

...

"You want to tell me how you escaped?"

Sara didn't like where they were going; they'd been walking in the same forest for about half an hour, and it seemed to become wilder and wilder. Sara was a little relieved to have her hands free, even though she knew Paul had only untied her because she was slowing him down.

"Hum..." She swallowed. She had no desire to tell him how she had managed to run from Bagwell, but fear made it so she chose conversation over silence. "I, uh – I got lucky.

Paul glanced at her briefly and couldn't hide his amusement when he noticed the scary look on Sara's face, as she looked around her, as if every tree was going to grab and eat her. "No need to worry," he said with a grin; for some reason, the idea to be reassuring her confidently brought him a certain kind of joy. "I know this place by heart."

"So where are we going?"

"It's just a short way back to the lodge."

Sara froze as though she'd just walked into a bear trap. Kellerman turned to her and frowned. "We've got to keep moving, Sara."

"Can we please not go back to the lodge?"

Behind the perennial pride, Paul observed, she sounded terrified. He put on a reassuring smile before he spoke, as soft as he managed. "Well, we have to, else our friends are going to think we skipped out."

"Paul, please." She let out sharply, and he flinched slightly at the realization – he was almost positive it was the first time she spoke his name. "I don't want to go back."

"What are you afraid of?" He wondered. "Bagwell?"

"Yeah!" She spoke shamelessly. "I have a feeling he doesn't like me too much right now."

"Please Sara," Paul rolled his eyes in slight bemusement, "he's not going to kill you."

"Why?" She challenged. "You're going to protect me? Like you do it so well?"

He couldn't find anything to retort, so he borrowed her dryness. "Stop being a baby. We need to move."

"I'm not going back." She stated with all of the stubbornness she was capable of.

He sighed. "You can walk with me or be dragged by me, or I can just carry you onto my shoulder, now, are you sure you don't want to work with me ?

"Yeah," she spat without being able to hold back. "I don't want to work with you. We didn't all sell our soul to the devil."

They were both silent for a moment and Sara lowered her gaze; that mouth of hers was going to get her killed one of these days, yet it wasn't anger she found in Kellerman's eyes when she looked. In fact, she wasn't sure she'd ever seen him so serious. "Why are you so scared of him?" He wondered, almost with genuine curiosity. "Did he rape you?"

"No." She answered right away for some reason.

"But he unbuttoned your shirt."

"Actually, I'd rather not discuss this with you."

Kellerman tensed at the despise in her tone. "Why not?" He spat. "You'd rather discuss it with Michael?"

Sara was going answer him that it wasn't any of his business when she noticed something in his voice, something that made her stop in her haste. Something that she prayed wasn't what she thought it was. She stared at him, both in disgust and realization as she managed out. "Are you jealous?"

Kellerman chuckled humorlessly, with that cold cruel way only he owned. "No," he lied, and looked away.

Sara stared at him in complete disbelief. "Oh my god." She breathed. "You are jealous."

He didn't answer her, but she could see how angry he was. Angrier than she'd ever seen him. He grabbed her arm tightly, bruising it on the way as he pulled her behind him. "Let's go." He had never been so furious. He suddenly hated her, hated her for the disgusted look she'd given him when she had figured him out, he hated how it seemed twisted and impossible to understand for her, as if him loving her would be as unthinkable as ridiculous, he hated her so badly at the moment, he hated her so much he wanted to strangle her right now and make that look forever disappear out of her face.

Sara breathed out dizzily, picking up all the little details that now started to make sense. "God," she realized in a breath, "when you kissed me..." At first she'd mistaken it for an act of domination, it hadn't even occurred to her that it my simply be a feeling; an urge. A need that he could no longer repress.

"Wow, Sara," he chuckled and feigned admiration, fumbling to act as though he wasn't losing ground. "Such an imagination! You should consider becoming a writer."

He didn't let her look him in the eyes for a second. Because then she'd know; if she looked at him right now, she'd know.

"Let go of me," she ordered, trying to pull away. This time he had to turn to her to hold her still. He pushed her roughly against a tree, and didn't even try not to hurt her. Her lips parted in a silent scream when he pinned her against the wood, preventing her from moving an inch.

His anger vanished when he heard her whimper. He had let go of an ounce of all the anger that had gathered inside him by hurting her, and hurting her had made all of his anger go away. The apology was on his lips but he couldn't say it; he wouldn't say it, he wouldn't give her another opportunity to see how weak she had made him.

Instead he swallowed back everything he felt and feigned indifference. "Pay attention now, sweetheart, we _are_ going back to that lodge, and if Bagwell wants to finish what he started with you, that's fine by me."

Something in his chest twitched when he saw the tears in her eyes that she struggled to repress. "Why do you have to be like that?" The pain was audible in her voice. "Why do you _always_ have to pretend?!" His blue gaze lit up with anger but she didn't care. "Why can't you just drop the act?" She almost yelled. "Is it so terrible to be yourself that you have to conceal yourself behind a mask to run from everything you feel?"

She suddenly fell to the floor, her head hitting the earth hard; he watched her for a second, her red hear spread on the dirt like a stain of blood. It took him a while to realize that he'd slapped her. His hand had gone against his will. He hadn't meant to hit her this hard. He hadn't meant to hit her at all.

A thousand apologies on his lips, a self hatred so deep that he wanted to cut off his hand.

She gasped at the hit, her cheek on fire. She recovered slowly, face down in the dirt. He hadn't held back his strength.

Paul kept his eyes on her, fumbling for a reason, an excuse – panic surged through his veins when he realized he was trembling. Suddenly, he decided he couldn't stand to see her lying there on the floor like a beaten puppy and he gripped at her half-ripped shirt and lifted her to her feet, shoving her back against the same tree when she tried to run again. He swallowed, and his voice betrayed his guilt. "You better behave now, Sara. You've gone through the last bit of my patience."

He was willingly trying to sound intimidating, and he felt himself panic a bit more when she didn't answer – did his confusion show? Could she finally see through to him, this moment he had dreaded since the second he understood he wasn't physically able to stay away from her – he both wished she would say nothing and stifled the urge to shake her brutally, only to make her speak. They'd already played that game. When she ultimately spoke, her voice was both calm and honest as she appraised him, and realized. "I pity you."

He slapped her again, holding her still with his other hand so she wouldn't fall. He clenched his teeth as hard as he could to hold back the words that threatened to come out. He'd hit her as hard as the first time, and she was certain she would have dropped if he wasn't supporting her. Sara looked back at him, his face was impassive but his eyes betrayed him, and it occurred to him that she had never seen him so human. So _true_.

Kellerman couldn't believe what he saw. She wasn't scared of him. He had abducted her, twice, tortured her and now he'd just brought the back of his hand in contact with her face, and she wasn't afraid one bit. She uttered, as though reading his mind, as though he was as easy to figure out than an open book. Perhaps she'd simply noticed that he was shaking. "Funny thing, isn't it Paul? That you're the one who's scared?" Her tone was devoid of all mockery.

Paul didn't get the chance to answer, or ponder on whether he was going to response with words or strength, before his phone rang, bringing him back to reality. He held her still with one hand to make sure she wouldn't run away. She made no attempt to even move. "Kellerman," he picked up.

"Paul."

He recognized Caroline's voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He said, hoping she wouldn't notice anything odd in his tone.

"One of our agents in Napa saw Michael Scofield and Lincoln Burrows. They were asking about a lodge."

Paul's felt his heart tighten. "Is he sure that it was them..." He began, but Caroline wasn't in the mood to listen.

She was furious. "Yes he's sure!" She shouted. "It means that instead of playing by our rules, Scofield decided to play hero. Kill her." Her tone was placid.

The weight in his chest felt so heavy it seemed as though his heart had been turned to plumb. He knew how this conversation was going to end before it started, but he still attempted a vain attempt. "She's our only leverage against Scofield," he managed, "she's the only way he's ever going to give us the tape." He paused for a second and swallowed before concluding. "We need her."

"They tried to play us, Paul." Caroline articulated. "Kill the girl, it's an order. _Then_ you can come back home."

She hung up and Paul felt like smashing the cell in his fist but he held back; he just dropped the phone to the floor as he realized, this was the final test. It had always been. He felt dizzy. He felt like each fiber of his body was burning. He felt sick.

Sara didn't move. She didn't exactly understand what was happening, but she had understood most of it. Before she met Michael Scofield, she hadn't been brought so close to death, before she met him, everything was so much easier – it was at that exact moment that she realized she wouldn't trade it for the world. And then there was Kellerman, standing right there in front of her, trying to make her believe that he was a cold blooded monster. She cared about him, she realized as her eyes lingered on his faltering blue gaze, she couldn't explain why for the world, but it was a simple fact. She hated him, she despised the ways he'd taunted her in Sunnydale, she loathed him from the deepest of her soul, but she cared about him too, for reasons she couldn't name. Strangely, perhaps they'd be the same reasons why she hated him.

Maybe she just felt sorry for him.

Maybe she was simply the only person he'd ever met who didn't believe he was the soulless man he pretended to be, the one person in this planet that, regardless of her naivety, hadn't believed his lies.

Maybe she was plainly losing her mind.

Paul finally got out of the state of numbness he was in. He breathed in deep and closed his eyes, and tried to make the pain go away. He was going to kill her, she acknowledged as she spied him beneath her lashes, she was certain that he was, and she kept waiting to feel terrified but the fear just wouldn't come. For the very first time in her life, she simply wasn't afraid anymore.

Paul's fists tighten, his eyes were still shut. She was nothing, she was just a pawn, she was nothing and he couldn't screw this up. He just had to do what he did best. He just had to follow the orders and shut his mouth, do what he was told without asking questions. And then, just forget about her. Forget about it all.

Almost terrifyingly, he started to think practically. He shut everything down and hid behind his mask of carelessness, the mask of the good hit man who did what he had to do. He had left his gun at the lodge, so he'd have to improvise. He grabbed the knife at his belt, it was the same weapon he'd received on his first mission, Caroline had given it to him; he had killed dozens of people with it, and they were no different from Sara Tancredi. It shouldn't be much harder with her.

He pushed her away from the tree, with no other intention than to stall, then he turned her face to him and held her still, holding her by the shoulders with both hands, the long blade in his right hand grazing her neck. She made no attempt to run, she didn't screamed, or even fought back. _Why_ was she making this so easy? And yet at the same moment, so hard?

He raised the blade above her heart. He had done this a thousand time, hitting the heart was the quickest way to end it. He was ready, the knife was an inch away from her flesh and he pictured it, he saw himself digging the blade into her chest in a quick hit; he'd done it thousands of times, but his hand just wouldn't obey him. It shook for a second, so he tightened his fingers around the knife, so hard his knuckles turned white but his hand stopped shuddering. He stood there for a while, frozen as if incapable to move; incapable to kill her.

Sara didn't resist him; she knew it wouldn't be of any use whatever she did, he was a trained assassin and if he was going to kill her then she wouldn't do him the favor to run so he could stab her in the back. He'd have to look her in the eye. She held her breath when he lifted the weapon above her chest, and she could see it lowering down in painful agony over and over in her mind. Though the apprehension was torture, she forbade herself to close her eyes; she watched him with attention, and spotted the same impassive mask on his face. His face was lying, his eyes weren't. Sara could feel the cold steel of the blade through her shirt. She tried to swallow, vainly. She was looking right into his eyes, resisting the urge to look down – his blue gaze was as hypnotizing as always, but there was something in those eyes that told her that he was as much as a prisoner from her stare as she was from his.

"I killed dozens like you." He spoke. He was finally letting go of these words that had haunted him for days, and they only sounded plainly curious and angry. "Why are you any different?" His eyes were still fixed on her, but she felt like he was talking to himself. The knife was still pressed flat against her skin, but she wasn't holding her breath anymore. He shouted this time. "Why are you any different?!"

Sara didn't answer, his gaze held her prisoner for one more second, then, his eyes let her go.

He looked down and the knife fell at his feet.

He took a step backward but his expression didn't change, he was still looking at her, his mouth slightly opened in startle. He had never left any survivors before, he had never let anyone go, especially against orders. He had never let himself be moved by any of his missions, but when he had entered Sara Tancredi's world – everything had been different. Being with her, being her friend... it was unlike everything he had ever done before, and he didn't like it at first, because she made him changed and he didn't like change, he liked things to stay in their proper place, but then he'd come to realize that with her normal city girl ways, Chinese takeout and blueberry pie, and that breathtaking smile, she'd oddly made him better. Then it was too late, the addiction had started; he just had to see her, to be with her, and need her the same desperate way one needs air. These feelings he felt around her, so strange, so unknown and unlike everything he knew, a part of him must have known that they were confusing, so from the start he could prepare himself for the moment where he'd hold that blade against her skin; this, however, was the moment he knew best, almost familiar like a safety net, unlike what she'd awakened inside of him. And now that had come to finally go back to what he knew – he couldn't.

Sara was holding still, as startled as he was. "Get out of here." He breathed in an almost inaudible whisper.

The young woman just stood there, incapable of moving an inch. He hadn't killed her. He hadn't killed her and her first reflex was to be mad at him for it, because she couldn't plainly hate him anymore, but on the other hand, to just look at him right now – as peculiar as it sounds, she suddenly couldn't come up with one reason to hate him, at that second. He looked too wounded, she thought in defense of her own feelings, he looked crushed and destroyed and – had she done this to him?

"You..." She uttered, uncertain. "You're letting me go?"

He didn't answer. Couldn't she just goddamn go and leave him to his misery? Because all he needed right now in addition to everything was for her to see him like this, an inch away from breaking. "Why?" She even asked the stupid dumbass question.

He sighed angrily. "Does there _need_ to be a reason?" His eyes left the floor he'd been staring at to set on her.

He was right though, and a part of her knew it; she should just go. She didn't owe him anything, she should just save herself and run.

But she couldn't move.

"They're going to kill you when they find out you let me go." She stated.

"Why do you care?"

"I don't know."

Something lit up in his eyes, a bit as though someone had thrown gasoline and struck a match. After everything he'd said, everything he'd done and let others do – couldn't she simply answer 'I don't'? Leave him to his grief and wreck of her life, save herself… could she care? He wondered if it was even possible, after everything. Though he observed one did care about the people they hated; hating is just another word for caring.

They were both silent, and for a moment Sara whished back these three little words she had just spoken, but she owed him the truth even if she didn't understand it one bit more than he did. "I just..." she managed, shaking her head, "I don't know."

He looked away immediately. He was so close to his breaking point, he could feel it, and she didn't make it any easier. He could still change his mind, he could still kill her, right now, get up so quickly that she wouldn't even know what was happening; he could hit her to the side, or slit her throat. But part of him knew he wouldn't; because truth was, he couldn't kill her. And if he did, he could never live with himself again.

Kellerman dropped on tree trunk with a sigh – more of an annoyed sigh than anything really, and he took his head in his hands, dug his fingernails through his scalp as though to summon a thought. Any thought at all.

He wasn't looking at her, he was giving her a chance to run, and both were wondering why she wouldn't just take it. Why she chose to just stand there and stare at him like an idiot.

Sara really couldn't explain why even if her life had depended on it, couldn't explain why she stayed, why she wasn't able to simply run without looking back; she just knew it, somehow. If she looked back, she'd return to him. Maybe just because it wasn't in her nature, because she wasn't someone able to be blind to others' pain, someone who could walk away and choose to ignore the fact that another person would die because of her – someone like him. She didn't know why she cared so much, she didn't know how one act of mercy would ever repair everything else he had done, but she knew that whatever the reasons were, she just couldn't leave him to die. He hadn't.

She was so silent that for a moment, he thought she was gone; and then, before he had time to determine whether he felt pain or relief, he felt her sit next to him. Startle made his mouth run without him. "You've got to be kidding me." He muttered to himself, sighed and looked back at her. "Are you for real? I mean, seriously, what in fuck's name are you still doing here?" He tried to chase her, he did his best, threatened and used violent words to wake her up – something _had_ to wake her up. "Shouldn't you be running away so that you're not here when by the time I change my mind and kill you?" For a second though, it felt like he didn't even know how to be menacing anymore. "Can't you at least _act_ like you're afraid of me?"

"Is that it, Paul?" Shivers ran down his spine when she spoke his name. "Is that why you do the things you do? Because you want people to be afraid of you?"

"There's nothing in this world that could begin to make you understand why I do the things I do."

He had been cold and harsh enough, and he figured between how close he'd come to her with that knife earlier and the tone he had use, anyone with half a brain would have walked away. Instead she just stared at him with that unflinching attitude of hers, her hazel eyes locked into his with determination and a bit of anger, but not an ounce of fear, as she answered. "Try me."

He held back a smile at her persistence. "You're something, Tancredi," he'd give her that at least, and even though he wouldn't have believed he'd be having this conversation a few hours earlier, something inside of him seemed to have decided that it didn't really matter – nothing really mattered. And so he just sat next to her on that fallen tree, talking, because it's what she seemed to be decided to do. "You know," he added, "I'm really starting to wonder if you're all there, mentally speaking."

She didn't comment. Actually, she was starting to ask herself the same question – for what reason other than insanity would she be chitchatting with a man who had nearly killed her twice? The silence lingered, and Paul didn't really feel like smiling anymore. He wasn't looking at her either. He wasn't certain he still wanted her to leave, in fact he was quit sure he didn't; her warmth against his side oddly made him feel quieter, almost peaceful. And she – well, he couldn't even begin to define how she made him feel; closer to a better man, perhaps.

He suddenly wondered how much time they'd have before his two guests at the lodge started wondering why they were taking so long; even if that was the case, he thought, there was no way Bagwell or Mahone would manage to find them into the forest. Kellerman knew it could be a real maze for someone who didn't know it already, and so he figured they had a little time – what for though, he had no idea.

Sara waited, unsure what to do, though it didn't exactly feel awkward. She didn't know why, but something about sitting next to Paul Kellerman was so absurd that it strangely felt okay. It felt oddly comfortable, and as though he wouldn't push her away – it also felt safe, as paradoxical as it might sound. And he felt better, with her, part of her knew it, and part of her wanted it. Part of her wanted to make him feel better, even though she couldn't explain why in god's name. Maybe it was just because she had a feeling she was the one to have made him so miserable, and that made it her duty to turn him back into the self-confident jerk he usually was.

A bit of awkwardness pierced through their moment; Sara wasn't too sure what to do or say exactly, wondered if she should say something to appease him, maybe hold his hand – no, she decided. No, that would definitely be weird.

He was the first one to talk, the first one to tear himself from his contemplation of the woods to look back at her, also. "Why didn't you run?"

She let out a shy smile and deflected his question. "Why didn't you kill me?" She asked in return.

A small burst of laughter crawled out of his throat. "I doubt we have the same reasons. You go first."

She bit down on her lower lip; she didn't really have an answer for him. She didn't even have an answer for herself. "I don't know."

A short silence settled in before he asked, his voice devoid of any reproach. "Is it because you pity me?" To be honest, he didn't expect more from her than pity; in fact he might even expect less.

"Maybe." She pondered on what she'd felt and looked at him, sitting on that fallen tree – she'd seen a broken man, but had it exactly stirred pity? "No." She finally determined, still not looking at him.

"Then why?" He persisted calmly. "Righteousness?"

"Neither." She hadn't stayed because it was the right thing to do, and she wouldn't have stayed if it had been someone else, say that other agent who had broken into the lodge earlier; if this man had spared her life and told her to run, she would have. She kept her eyes set ahead of her, and began hesitatingly. "I – I'm not sure why, but for some reason, I… I can't leave you behind."

At that exact second, he wanted to show her the tremendous wave of emotion that she'd made him feel, like a devastating hurricane of warmth with cream skin and auburn hair. He wanted to thank her, to close his hand around her fingers blindly and draw her against him; he actually longed for it. To run his fingers through her silky hair, grip at the back of her head and clamp his mouth over hers to kiss her frenziedly.

Too much. Definitely too much for a thank you.

"Why not?" He asked instead.

"Your turn," she decided, meeting his eyes this time. "Why didn't you kill me?"

He smiled slightly, as though aware of how ridiculous it was. "I feel strongly protective of you." He chuckled humorlessly; because really, who acknowledges that they want to protect someone _after_ torturing them without mercy?

Though she didn't laugh, or question him. She simply waited a while before she suggested. "Maybe you feel some sort of obligation towards me? Maybe I don't even have anything to do with what you're feeling, maybe you're just growing a brand new conscience and I'm bugging it."

He escaped another chuckle at the end of her sentence, not just because of the way she'd chosen to put things, but because it was actually a good theory, and a goddamn shame it wasn't true. And for a second, he wished it were; he wished that he wouldn't be tormented by this perennial need to see her, every day for the rest of his life.

He winced and answered. "I don't think that's it."

"Well, what do you think it is?" She was calm, though a bit of annoyance pierced through. "They're your feelings, you know them better than I do."

He could feel her eyes on her, even though he'd lowered his. "I just…" He managed, then turned towards her, as though incapable not to be looking at her for one more second. "When we were together at your apartment," he began, "when you thought I was Lance, playing your friend, you got me so confused. It was as though you were always on my mind, but I couldn't name a thing among the tangled mess you made me feel," _acknowledge_, "and when I received the orders to –" He lowered his eyes, as though stopped in his haste; as though suddenly incapable of vocalizing what he'd done with his own hands. "To question you," he swallowed before continuing, "I couldn't understand why I wanted to keep you with me, and – keep these feelings be."

He didn't even make sense to his own ears, and it was a miracle she didn't point it out before now. "Okay, calm down." He was plainly lost in his own words, and couldn't even believe he was even telling her this. In her attempt to slow him down, she grazed his cheeks with her knuckles, and didn't realize the intimacy of the gesture until the contact made her shiver.

He felt as though she'd set his skin on fire. She'd lowered her hand immediately, of course, but the burning sensation lingered on his cheek. He locked eyes with her, as though to prevent her from looking away. "You hated me," he stated, "back in Sunnydale, you couldn't stand the sight of me. What's different now?"

"Nothing." Everything. "I don't know," she reiterated, "I guess back then, I thought of you differently." She really had no idea why she was being honest with him, as though incapable of lying. "I guess I saw you as a soulless man. Some sort of sadistic torturer." Plus an arrogant jackass, was added in her mind only.

He just chuckled without humor. "Yeah, old news, that's what everyone thinks of me."

"Well you only have yourself to blame," she pointed out, "that's how you want people to see you." She was certain of what she advanced for some reason. "It's how you wanted me to see you, but..." She swallowed, fumbling for words that escaped her. "I just don't seem to be able to see you like this, anymore. It feels a bit like you've never been honest to me up till now, and –" she shrugged, unsure of her own suggestion. "Maybe I don't hate that guy so much."

He stared at her in disbelief. Shock. Amazement. Fascination. He'd scarcely ever been sincere to her, and yet he felt she could see him so clearly, see him differently than anyone had ever seen him, differently than Caroline – as if she could see the actual person, beneath every single mask. And the most startling news was, she didn't hate him. He had done everything he could think of to get her to hate him and it had failed somehow; then it occurred to him, maybe he'd done it just to make sure he would never have to make the choice that he'd just made.

Sara felt herself blush under his gaze.

She had told him the truth, even though said truth was inexplicable even to herself; she didn't hate him anymore. It wasn't that she'd forgotten or forgiven what he had done to her, both were impossible, but she now had trouble associating him to the man who had done these things to her. It was perhaps easier to keep seeing him as the big bad wolf, but it was undeniable: he had changed. And a week ago, she would have hated him for changing, she would have wanted him to forever be the coldhearted monster she knew he was – and yet, how could she hate him for changing when she was the one who had changed him?

Kellerman's words tore through the silence; he heard himself speak. "Thank you." They had come out loud and clear, and her hazel eyes set on him, inquisitive, but he hesitated when it came to justifying. "Hum, for…" He uttered. "Not hating me?"

She smiled slightly, and for a second, wondered why this didn't feel more awkward than that. She hated him days ago, no, _hours_ ago, and yet she wondered if she'd ever feel shame or embarrassment in front of him again – it didn't really feel like she would. In fact, as mad as it sounded, if felt as though she'd never feel the need to hide anything to him, when there was _only_ him around. As though she would simply remember this moment, and what it felt like to be sitting on a fallen tree, next to a fallen man, and the shame would fade away. As though there were no lies in this world able to conceal her from Paul Kellerman. As though she was and forever would be, oddly and helplessly, bare in front of him.

Sara gasped when Kellerman's phone started vibrating, as though they'd both been cut out from reality for a while and it had just crushed right back in. Kellerman sighed, deep in his throat; he knew who was calling; he knew it was Caroline. And right there, at this second, he hated her a little for ruining this moment. He had no intention to answer his phone whatsoever, at first, as though to demonstrate: I-will-no-longer-be-Caroline-Reynolds's-living-thing. Though in the end, the annoying sound of the alarm made him give in.

He got up and left Sara a few steps behind to pick up his cell phone, which was still lying inert on the ground. That's all it took for Sara to jump back into the real world. She had just spent the past half hour inside this forest, chatting with Paul Kellerman. And she hadn't even thought of Michael. Michael, who was probably worried to death because of her.

The ring of Caroline's shrill voice echoed as soon as Kellerman answered his phone. "Is it done?"

"Yes," he spoke casually, "I'm actually dealing with the body right now."

Sara knew that he was a good liar, and still she was surprised to note that she almost believed him. And though to see him play this role again – be this man – it was blood chilling. She heard him chuckle at one of his interlocutor's comment, before he sighed. "Oh please, Caroline, I'm offended that you would question me at this point. It's been what, fifteen years since we've been working together?" Though through his casualness, Sara was certain that he knew exactly how many years. He knew exactly how many days. "All this time," he went on, "and you still don't trust me." There was a short silence in the conversation before he continued. "Fine, I'll take a picture of the body and send it right away."

He hung up, and when he looked back at Sara, all masks were dropped again as he informed. "I think you need to leave right about now." And at that second, she knew as well as him that he had played this role for the last time

He started guiding her towards the edge of the forest, and she inquired as soon as she saw they were heading back to the road. "What are we going to do? Wait for a car to pick us up?"

"Oh no," he countered calmly. "I was here during my first mission, you see, and me being me, I always have to leave a plan B behind."

She understood what he meant when he led her to a small garage. He opened it and Sara squinted at the sight of a black motorcycle. "What the hell is that?" She managed.

He grinned. "Plan B."

...

"So what do you suggest we do?" Lincoln asked, "Just break in, grab her and take off?"

"I have a feeling it's not going to be this easy," Michael said.

They were both crouching near the lodge, and the older brother went on. "All right, so what do we do? Should I recall you that we're a little short of weapons?"

"Would you stop talking, Linc? I'm trying to think." Michael somehow managed to both yell and whisper at the same time. He couldn't risk whoever was in there hearing them.

"Didn't mean to disturb your thinking."

Michael snapped. "Could you stop being such a baby, Linc? Sara's in there! And she's in trouble! And I can't help her! And it's driving me nuts!"

"I'm worried about her too, you know."

"I know, I'm sorry. I just – I just hate myself right now."

"Don't beat yourself up, Mike. It's not your fault. Technically speaking, it's mine."

Michael was silent for a moment before sighing. "You know last time I saw her, we argued. I –" He shook his head, as if he couldn't even believe himself. "I accused her." He finished. "I blamed her about Kellerman kissing her. I said she let him."

Lincoln didn't answer. He thought that was actually a pretty stupid thing to say, but he didn't comment.

"I wish it back." The young man went on, "But I was just so angry. We were breaking up, and she was getting upset about Kellerman disappearing like that and – the worst thing is, she was right. She was right to be suspicious, and we all should have been. Then I left her alone. I basically left her there for him to take."

"Don't say that." Lincoln said, both authoritarian and serious.

Michael didn't answer, before he ultimately said. "I should have been there." The his phone rang, and he was pulled out of his thoughts; when he recognized Sara's number, he couldn't help his hands from turning into fists – he was quite certain he wouldn't be able to contain his rage if he talked to Kellerman right now. He answered right away. "Look, I'm making progress, so you better not hurt her or I'll –"

"Michael, it's me."

He felt his heart jump in his chest. The anger in his voice disappeared, and he let his relief take over. "Sara?"

She sounded as relieved as he was to hear his voice. "Michael, I – I got out, I can't… look, we can't go back to Sunnydale, we have to meet somewhere else."

"Wait, slow down, what do you mean you got out?"

"I escape." She let out a slight chuckle through her seriousness. "I guess spend too much time with you."

He smiled. He couldn't believe how relieved he felt. "Where are you? I'm coming to you."

"Santa Rosa, we drove all the way here. I'm at some motel, I... I'll be more precise when you get here –"

"Wait. What do you mean we?"

"Uh – I'll explain when you get here, just... I need to see you. I miss you. Just hurry."

"I'll be here as soon as possible," he promised before he hung up.

"What the hell was that?" Lincoln said with a puzzled frown."

"She..." Michael managed, smiling stupidly, "we need to get to the car."

...

Sara hung up and turned to Kellerman. "They're on their way."

He simply nodded. They had driven all day before taking a motel room here. Sara was exhausted, but the idea to see Michael again seemed to refuel her strength. .

"Well," Kellerman said, "when do you think they'll be here?"

"By morning maybe," she hazarded, "somewhere around 5 a.m."

She dropped on the bed and sighed with contentment. It was the only bed inside the bedroom, and her companion had told her she could have the bed; she should have said no, but she was too tired to protest. Besides, Paul Kellerman wasn't the kind of man to take no for an answer.

He smiled watching her like that, abandoning herself as though they were above formalities of all kinds – he liked the sound of that. He liked how peaceful she looked. He hated the fact that Scofield was going show up tomorrow and ruin it all for him, but part of him knew it was fair. He had already obtained from Sara Tancredi more than what he deserved.

He lay down on the couch and sighed, visibly as tired as she was. "I better not be there when he gets here," he observed. "I'll just take the motorcycle."

"You're not going anywhere," Sara countered without much vehemence, but enough authority for him to know that she was serious. "You're not going to make it alone," she went on. "You're staying with us."

He smiled without joy, and yet it felt oddly genuine. "I have a feeling your boyfriend isn't going to be so happy about that."

"You saved my life." She pointed out. "I'll just explain him what happened –"

"I'm afraid that's not how he's going to see things."

Sara didn't argue; yes, Michael was going to be pissed off, super pissed off, maybe as pissed of as she was when he first got Kellerman to join the team. "He'll come around." She decided and closed her eyes.

She just wanted to sleep, just for a little while...

"Sara?" He asked, summoning her to an aware state. "Are you serious about this?"

She sighed and opened her eyes. He was sitting on the couch, his blue eyes fixed on her, as if he was – she pondered on it for a second before she realized – willing. He simply looked willing to do anything she'd ask.

"Yeah," she said, "I'm serious about this."

He pondered on it for a second. "Look, back there, in the forest, it was... it was special. But now we're out, and you did enough for me. I wouldn't blame you for wanting me to leave as soon as the sun rises." She didn't answer and so he continued, more than serious; strangely solemn, too. "I'll do it." He simply said. "I'll do it if you want me to, I'll leave and I'll never bother you again. You should be aware of that, Sara. At this point, I think I'll do anything you want me to do."

She smiled, and he didn't know whether to be angry or amazed at her innocence. "You don't have to do that. You don't have to do anything I say, Paul, but – I'd like you to stay."

He remained speechless for a few seconds before he uttered. "You don't mean that." It was a statement, not a question.

She sighed slightly before she asked. "Would it be terribly hard for you to believe that I like you?" The question came with genuine curiosity, and he forced himself not to get carried away – she hadn't _said_ she liked him. She hadn't said anything concrete.

And yet instead of being happy with what he had, instead of contenting himself of her tolerance, he pushed. "Do you?"

She stared at him, as though rising to a silent challenge between a strong presentiment and her sanity. It was a bit like knowing something, deep inside of you, knowing it in your bones and wondering whether you should reflect upon it quietly or just trust it.

"Yes." She answered, and went on before he could interrupt. "And don't ask me why, I don't know. But I don't want to leave you behind." She still wasn't sure why she was entirely honest with him. She remembered what he had told her in the woods and posed. "You say you feel like you need to protect me? I feel like I need to help you." Both desires were equally absurd. "And I know that for years you've obeyed orders from a woman who played you, and I don't want to tell you how to act, Paul, or what to do. But even though I can't tell you why, I think that we can learn from each other. And I think that setting yourself free of that woman was the best thing that could happen to you."

Paul didn't answer.

He didn't love Caroline, he was obsessed by her. He had loved her once, maybe, but she had changed with time and all he could do was hold on to her to try to keep up. What he felt for Sara was different. What he felt for her was just – warmer. Deeper. Stronger. Almost as though he didn't only love her more, but loved her from a better love. Sure, it could be destructive, and it could hurt like hell, like any other love, but deep down he sensed that the way Sara Tancredi had taken over him was nothing like what Caroline had done. She'd put her claws onto him and trapped him there, manipulated him and turned him into her willing slave, but with Sara… It was more as though a warm wave had overwhelmed him. Washed away the pain and suffering. Taken all his doubts on its way. A huge burning tidal wave that had burned everything he was only to leave the best of him, the same way a phoenix is reborn from his ashes. And that's what he felt like, that's what he was. Reborn.

And now that he could analyze the feeling, now that he knew what it was and had gotten used to it, it just felt like the best there ever was.

It just felt like love.

'_Did my heart love until now? I swear it sight! That I never saw true beauty 'til this night!'_

Great, and now he was quoting Shakespeare.

"Hum... Paul?"

He looked a bit as though he was in an awaken coma. He managed: "Yeah, hum..." and, "I just..." He looked right at her, still illuminated by the brightness of realization, as he uttered. "I'm sorry."

She smiled politely, only a hint awkwardly. "No big deal."

"No." He said. As in 'No. you didn't hear me.' He repeated. "I'm _sorry_."

He looked at her, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at her with those big brown eyes, and her uncomprehending gaze was almost the same as when he'd been torturing her. That's when he realized how truly sorry he was. "I'm sorry I lied to you," he said without lowering his eyes. "I'm sorry tortured you."

She trembled at the mention, and she suddenly thought that if she'd been able to look away, right now, she would have.

"I'm sorry I kidnapped you." He went on, enumerating. "I'm sorry I left you with Bagwell." Though every apology was tainted with sentiment, not ice – the same sentiment that he'd let her see earlier, in the forest. And she became aware of how close he was from crying, even though he didn't seem to. "I'm sorry I hit you, earlier today."

She didn't realize she'd gotten up from bed until she reached him.

"I'm sorry I held a knife to your throat –"

The rest of his words died when she held him in her arms; no warning, just like that. Just because they both needed it right now. He stopped talking, at first from startle, and shock stopped him from reacting; then, slowly, he wrapped his arms around her too.

He locked her there, satisfying an urge that had resigned itself to linger unfulfilled, and although he would have thought he'd hold her tight enough to smother her if he could, both were surprised by the gentleness of his touch; as if he was afraid to break her by making a wrong move.

"I'm sorry." He whispered again against her.

"I know." She hushed him, and unconsciously, instead of waking up and unlocking himself from his embrace, she started stroking the base of his neck with her thumb. Her other hand was laced across his strong back, rubbing softly through his shirt in an unaware gesture. Both his arms were around her back, though one of his hands sank slightly in the length of her auburn hair – perhaps that's what should have waken her up. Because Michael had touched her like this, more than once. Because the contact was too intimate for her to be comfortable with it, or at least, should have been.

And yet instead of awakening from this insanely mad day, instead of realizing and walking away from the odd sensation, she stepped deeper into it. Because this didn't make sense, none of it did. But it felt safe. It didn't feel like losing herself into a stolen moment of passion, the way it did with Michael. But it felt right. Horribly, disturbingly right. In fact, ever since her father had been killed – no, before that – ever since she'd come back from school at fourteen years old, on a Thursday afternoon, and she had been told that her mother was dead, she finally, inexplicably felt like she'd come home.

And that was the strangest thing about it. She knew what he felt. She knew it even if he couldn't explain it, as though their lives and souls had been bound by fate and awkwardly thrown together, all at the wrong timing. It's what scared her most, too. Because all he felt, she somehow felt it too; in a different way. She loved Michael, it made the scale tip, she loved him more than anything, but she wondered if that was really all there was to it – if it was the only reason why her feelings were different.

This odd sensation that had tugged at her, earlier in the woods, when she'd started to see through his lies, and the certainty that after seeing the crack in his ice-cold mask, he'd never be able to lie to her again. This indescribable feeling that had snaked inside of her, back in the forest, the one that had turned her feet to plumb and her hatred to ash and _made_ her stay. Was there really anything but bad timing to separate her feelings from his? She felt what he felt, in the inexplicable way that she understood it, sensed it, but didn't let it take over her. It was the only thing she could do, after all; she already belonged to someone else.

And so, locked into strong unthreatening arms, she wondered… What if there had been no bad timing? What if the timing had been as opportune and favorable as can be?

What if she had met Paul first?

What if she hadn't been a fugitive, and he hadn't been working for Caroline?

Her throat tightened with self-hatred when the worse question of all crushed inside her mind.

What if despite her self-control and resignation, she simply ended up loving them both?


	13. Chapter 13

_'__If you want a lover, I'll do anything you ask me to, and if you want another kind of love I'll wear a mask for you. If you want a partner take my hand, or only want to strike me down in anger, here I stand. I'm your man."_

_Leonard Cohen_

…..

"Are you sure we're at the right place?" Lincoln asked with a slight frown. "I mean, a park? It's a little crowed for three fugitives to meet, don't you think?"

"Exactly," Michael said, "but we're not fugitives right now, we're just tourists, remember?"

The young man got out of the car and started checking out the area. It was ten in the morning, and the park was already thronged; Michael let his eyes skim over the place, desperately searching for Sara in the crowd.

He felt like his heart stopped when he spotted her; he had been so concerned four the past twenty four hours, and now the torturous thought of what she had gone through yesterday was almost as tormenting. She hadn't seen him yet, and remained patiently waiting; she was wearing a pink top below a dark jacket and blue jeans, and her long auburn hair was reunited in a long ponytail. He sighed in relief before he noticed the dark bruise across her cheekbone. It shouldn't upset him that much, after all, she already bore more scars because of him than a simple hematoma. And yet, he felt his heart tighten with guilt at the thought of the mess he had brought her in; maybe he should let her be, go before she spotted him and never interfere with her life again. But he wouldn't do that and he knew it; he'd never be able to leave her behind again.

Sara waited, legs crossed, hands in her pocket so that she wouldn't fiddle with them nervously. When she finally spotted him, it felt as though everyone around them had ceased to exist and disappeared; he'd already spotted her, she noticed, his blue gaze was riveted on her, and his lips bore the trace of a light smile.

She exhaled in relief the second their eyes met, before she stood up and started walking toward him, then running. He started running as well, as though they'd spent enough time apart for a lifetime. He held her to him the second he could reach her, sweeping her off her feet, completely oblivious to the argument they'd had two days ago. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, holding her closer to him.

"So am I." She breathed. "About the fight we had, I didn't mean – I'm sorry."

He put her back on her feet when he heard Lincoln approach, but didn't break their embrace. The older brother grinned. "Hey Sare. Nice to see you're still breathing."

"Yeah," she said with a shy laugh, pulling away from Michael slightly so that he still had an arm wrapped around her, and her fingers were tightly locked around his hand.

Lincoln smiled at the sight of the couple, thinking that his little brother had gotten his girlfriend back, and that apart from a war they had sworn to participate in, everything would probably be all right. "So," he said, "are we getting back to the car so the two of you can catch up?" 

The younger brother smiled, rather content at the idea of holding Sara in his arms for the next hour and a half, in the privacy of the backseat, and pressing kisses to the top of her head restlessly. "Sounds good to me." 

He looked at Sara and frowned in surprise at the sight of her visible hesitation. "Well, actually…" She bit her lips before repeating the words Michael had spoken to her, the previous week. "There's someone working with us." 

She threw a glance behind her shoulder and Michael mirrored her, blue eyes veiled by incomprehension. And then, he saw him. Black jeans, black jacket, dark sunglasses; the perfect outfit for a perfect company man. Kellerman stood a few meters away, his sunglasses concealing a cold blue gaze – and the woman he was gazing at.

Michael's fists tightened instantly and he clenched his teeth. Observing her boyfriend's reaction, Sara took it she had made the right choice to opt for a public rendezvous. She put her hand over his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. "Look, Michael –"

He wasted no time in pulling away, without bothering to be gentle – he'd apologize later; he kept his eyes set on the agent as he started walking ahead, decidedly. "You son of a –" Michael wasn't sure he'd ever been more furious in his life, and didn't know whether he was going to finish his sentence and come up with a proper insult, or plainly let his fist collide with the man's face; as it turned out, it's a choice he didn't have to make.

Sara stepped between both men, and Michael stared at her in startle; Kellerman just stood still, as quiet as before. "Sara," her boyfriend managed, "move out of the way." He spotted the slight outrage in her eyes, and settled again that he'd wait to be calmer before he apologized for bossing her around a bit.

"You don't get it, Michael." The young woman stated; of course, without moving an inch backwards. "He saved my life."

Kellerman let out an exhale before he agreed, halfway between weariness and boredom. "Maybe you should move, Sara. If your boyfriend wants to fight me, I'll gladly let him throw the first punch. Though I suggest we find a more appropriate place to do it first."

Sara sighed in frustration when her eyes flew back to Kellerman – with his blue eyes concealed, she could almost mistaken him for a stranger. Except that it had become obvious that it was no longer what he was; not after last night. They might become many things to each other, but they would never be strangers again.

She glared at him slightly before stating. "There will be no fighting."

"What?" Michael exclaimed, and for only a second, it occurred to Sara he almost looked like a child denied his favorite toy. "He ruined everything for us, Sara. We were fine before he got here! How did this suddenly become a non-violent situation, anyway? Isn't that what you wanted? For me to step up for you? He _kidnapped_ you. How do you expect me to tolerate him?"

The reply came right away, before Sara could help it – her mouth just ran without her. "The same way you expected me to do it."

Michael remained entirely silent for a few moments; he knew there was absolutely nothing he could reply to that, and so he simply attempted to murder Kellerman with his eyes only. Lincoln joined them in a few steps, visibly upset. "What the hell?" Were the only three words he spoke.

Sara sighed once again, her eyes lowering as she felt a sudden inexplicable anger regarding the three men surrounding. Men. Always picking a fight like children playing with plastic guns. "Well," she announced calmly, addressing to all three of them. "We're going to work together. All of us." She added, "Again."

Lincoln arched a brow before meeting her eyes. He asked. "And exactly _why_ do we have to do that?" 

"Because," she answered with slight irritation, "the company wants him dead for _saving_ my life." She emphasized the last part of her sentence before shaking her head. "So now, the two of you just grow some nerves, or whatever and just – suck it up."

Paul did his best to fight back a smile, because Sara had told him to behave, and the sight of him grinning would only annoy Scofield a little bit more; but the sight of her so fiery, standing up to her boyfriend like that, it just made it impossible to resist.

"Suck it up?" Michael echoed, as in _did-you-really-just-say-that?_ "You really expect me to ignore what he did to you?"

"Maybe." She answered without looking back towards him. "Isn't that what you expected from me?" 

Michael kept his eyes set on Sara until she'd reached the car; the three men still hadn't moved. The young man reported his attention towards Kellerman, his eyes glaring fire. "Look," he spoke, "I don't know why she's doing this for you and I don't care either. You're a dead man."

"Mike –" Lincoln jumped in, as though to save the situation, but his brother ignored him.

"I have no idea why she's protecting you," Michael pursued, "I don't know what's gotten into her but the _second_ she's back to her senses, or as soon as you'll simply leave her sight, I will kill you." Both men stared at each other for a while; Kellerman knew Scofield had never committed murder before, but he had spoken the words as though he meant them – the message couldn't be clearer. They weren't going to return to how things were in Sunnydale, before this all happened. Michael stated again, with ice in his voice and fire in his eyes. "I don't care about the consequences. I'll kill you." 

Kellerman hadn't moved an inch; he stared back at the young man with the exact same seriousness, calm on the surface but strangely as angry – he had never liked Scofield, not for a second, but seeing Sara in his arms a few moments earlier had felt as though something was burning inside of him, somewhere deep. He acknowledged it, now. He hated the boy. He'd hated him since the second he'd witnessed the affectionate and tender relationship he shared with Sara, the one Kellerman envied so much. He shouldn't taunt Scofield, in fact he felt too angry to lower himself to anything such; but most importantly, he'd promised Sara. He'd promised he'd behave.

Paul Kellerman had never been the behaving kind.

He stepped towards Michael, his own eyes darker, colder somehow, as he spoke without an inch of humor and all the seriousness in the world. "Sure you will."

Michael didn't have time to reply before Sara's voice echoed from across the playground. "If you're not in this car in less than ten seconds, I'm leaving without you guys."

Michael kept motionless, his eyes still locked with Kellerman's, just as serious until a smirk crooked his lips, slight; but undeniable. He broke eye-contact with the agent and started walking towards the car.

Lincoln started taking the same direction, before he seemed to hesitate on whether or not he should let a bit of his anger burst; he visibly wasn't the brother who usually quieted things down. He glanced at Kellerman, clenched his teeth and stated. "If he doesn't kill you, I will." Then walked away also. 

Paul exhaled before following the brothers, maintaining a reasonable distance between them and him. This was undoubtedly going to be a long trip.

...

Sara sat next to Michael in the backseat, while Lincoln drove and Kellerman rode shotgun next to him. Not a word was spoken during the first fifteen minutes; it could be extremely embarrassing to be stuck in such confine places with people when love and hate tend to unfortunately stand in opposite, and mingled directions.

Sara dared a glance toward Michael through her lashes; she knew he wasn't mad at her, not really. Heck, after everything he had done, he couldn't _afford_ to be mad at her, but he was allowed to be mad at the situation. And mad he was.

"So," Kellerman spoke when he got tired of the imposing silence. "Exactly where are we going?"

"Why?" Michael said without humor. "Are you intending to phone your employer?"

"Michael." Sara scolded softly, pleading her boyfriend with her eyes to make sure the anger would melt like snowflakes in a microwave. "Please," she demanded, "don't start." 

Paul glanced at the rearview mirror, as he had been doing since the beginning of this road trip, more or less subtly. He couldn't help but clench his teeth when he saw the young woman give Michael _that_ look – there was something inappropriate yet inevitable about the anger he felt. He wanted to _own_ that look. He wanted to know for certainty that he was the only man on this earth that Sara Tancredi would look at in that way.

He wanted her to be his.

He only lowered his eyes when Sara's hazel gaze met his in the mirror. The young woman reported her attention to her boyfriend and settled for distracting him. "So," she said, "where did you guys sleep last night?"

"In the car." Michael answered, tenderness creeping into his tone helplessly at the sight of his love. "And you?"

Kellerman answered before Sara had time to react. "A motel room, pretty cheap. It was an unforgettable night."

Okay, Sara figured; this was just revenge for her snuggling with Michael for the few previous minutes, but she was still frustrated to see her efforts to soothe her boyfriend's furious rage were vain – what was the point in appeasing him if it only took a comment from Kellerman to ruin it. She saw Michael's fingernails digging into his own palms, as though to control his anger.

Her tone admonishing and serious, she lectured. "Paul." All she had to do was say his name, and Kellerman felt his own jerk-confidence lower down to zero. He would never manage to be _that_ guy with her around, never again. The young woman finished on the same tone. "Don't start either."

Paul sighed and gritted his teeth, but he obeyed – he behaved. Sara watched him look away in the rearview mirror, but he didn't add another comment, much to her relief; though there was a bit of bitterness mingled. _Why_ did he have to be such an asshole to everyone around? She knew he could be different, she'd seen him be different, so couldn't he at least act decent enough to prove the others she'd made the right decision by putting him back in the team?

Though her attention was soon wrenched from Kellerman as her boyfriend let out a disapproving exhale. Sara couldn't help but sound a little bit frustrated when she uttered. "What?"

"Well," Michael said, slightly reproaching, "you're calling him _Paul_ now?"

Sara cleared her throat before she answered; although Paul's face was concealed from both of them, his mocking laughter was unmistakable. "Yes," the young woman said. "It is his name. What's the big deal anyway?"

"I don't know." Michael said, although letting through a bit of irritation despite the usual softness of his tone. "I don't know anything anymore, Sara."

Sara frowned and exhaled through clenched teeth, suddenly furious. Their relationship hadn't exactly been rolling on sunshine for the past few days, but still, did he have to do this right _now_, in front of everyone?

She put ice in her voice before she answered. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, Sara." He repeated, not breaking through the calm surface, and perhaps making his anger even more obvious. "I guess I just assumed that when we'd meet again, it'd be just the two of us." He corrected himself when Lincoln cleared his throat, not exactly being discreet. "The three of us."

"Oh really?" She feigned surprise, angry also. "That's funny, it's what I thought when we met again last week!"

Lincoln considered asking the both of them to chill down, but he ultimately figured it would only make things worse.

"Oh!" Michael spoke, finally abandoning the quiet appearance. "So you're punishing me?!" 

"For Christ's sake, Michael!" Sara shouted. "Everything isn't about you." She would have almost wished for her boyfriend to yell back instead of silence settling in again.

Invisible from the couple, sitting quietly in his seat, Kellerman couldn't help but grin at the situation. He loved it when Sara stood up to Scofield like that; he loved it even more when the argument concerned _him_. It reinforced the sensation that Sara and him shared something special, something deep and intimate in its way that Michael would never understand; said boyfriend didn't exactly _act_ understandingly, did he?

Lincoln glanced at the backseat and saw Sara and his brother looking in the opposite direction. "Hum," he managed, audibly awkward, "should I pull over or something?"

Sara answered calmly, her voice heavy with unshed tears. "Just drive."

Her pain struck Kellerman right to the chest and snatched the grin off his lips. That was not part of his fun; he enjoyed Michael getting hurt, not her. He straightened in his seat and glanced at her through the rearview mirror with concern. Her pain appeared to him, almost surprising even though he should have known – should have known that even though something magical and which neither of them could ever explain had happened in the woods, Sara's relationship with Michael bounded her aside.

Eyes fixed on Sara's reflection, Kellerman uttered. "Are you all right?"

Michael mistook the question for provocation and ordered. "Shut up."

The young woman lowered her eyes and exhaled in frustration. "Yeah. Good idea," she approved without amusement. "Why don't both of you shut up?"

Kellerman sat back in his seat and obeyed, though telling himself pettily that the demand was probably aimed at Michael more than himself. He didn't mind remaining silent for the next hour if Sara wished it so; if he couldn't be by her side, he figured he could at least be what she wanted – what she needed.

If he couldn't be her boyfriend, he was going to be her man.

So he sat down calmly and kept quiet for the next half hour or so; until he started recognizing Sunnydale. "What the hell?" He burst without thinking about Sara's command – her safety came first. "The company knows we're in Sunnydale, you dim-witted idiot, what are we doing here?"

"They won't find us," Lincoln assured calmly. 

"Lincoln," Sara protested, "he's right. Why did you take us back here? It's suicidal."

Michael sighed before he stated. "I think it's time we do some catching up."

...

Michael had waited for the two of them to be alone before he talked to her. They were at Buffy's house, which was a lot bigger than their previous location, and she had saved them a whole room so they'd get some privacy to talk. Her boyfriend had started by narrating the visit at the hospital, then his discovery at Buffy's house; finally, he talked about the war, and how he had gotten himself involved in it.

He cautiously waited for Sara's reaction; ultimately, she just exhaled and let out. "Wow." She shook her head, visibly trying to come up with something more constructive. "I mean – wow."

"It's what I said at first." He attempted a joke, but his tone came out so humorless that the effect was blown.

She shook her head again, and the first comment that occurred to her came with the remembrance of the beautiful creature that had attacked her a week before. "So," she managed a light joking tone better than he did, "do you believe me now?"

Although she was kidding, he reacted seriously. He sat on the bed next to her and breathed out. "I'm sorry. I should have trusted you before." 

"It's fine, it's –" She bit her lip not to finish her sentence before she focused on more serious things. "So, we're fighting at war now?"

"No. I am." He corrected and explained at her puzzled look. "I'm not involving you into anything else." 

"Michael," she protested, "the whole human race is involved. Try to see the bigger picture here."

He sighed. "I know. It's crazy, isn't it?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "At least it's a good way to hide, Willow said she'd make a spell so that even if the company comes here, they won't see anything but an empty house."

Sara nodded again and silence fell upon the room. Michael sighed and looked back her before he finally spoke again. "Look, we need to talk." He specified. "Not about war, not about vampires. About us." He swallowed, trying to hold back his emotions. "You need to tell me what happened to you when you were taken. I need to know, Sara. Everything."

She didn't try to hide from his mesmerizing eyes – she didn't want to lie to him; her of all people knew that lies always ended up that much worse than the truth. "All right," she said. She dragged in a deep breath. Everything. "Paul took me inside some lodge somewhere near Napa. But you already knew that. Then some company guys showed up, and hum..." 

She wondered if she should skip a few details and he stated, as if reading her mind. "Sara, I need to know. Whatever happened, just tell me." 

She sighed and mentally cursed; she really wasn't in the mood to rehash yesterday's event. "Theodore Bagwell was with them." She said.

"T-bag?" Michael frowned in surprise before it mutated into rage. His next question was asked with extreme slowness. "Did he hurt you?" 

"No." She said immediately, eager to reassure him. "He didn't, Michael. I escaped –"

"He touched you?" 

"Hum…" She hesitated and the young man burst in worry.

"Tell me! Sara, you have to tell me what happened so that I can get this image out of my head."

Sara bit her lip, assuming that Bagwell undressing her while drooling over her skin wouldn't exactly be a much a better replacement to whatever image Michael was referring to. "Well…"

"Sara, _please_." He urged, serious as hell.

"Fine." She consented, inwardly making the promise to remain perfectly calm. "At some point we were left alone in the lodge, and he –" she swallowed before she continued, on the same tone. "He tried to rape me. It's okay, Michael, I got away before anything serious happened –"

As though anything she added to comfort him would matter after what she'd just said. Michael remained stuck on it for a second before he managed. "He did _what_?"

"Nothing." She hastily answered; she was changing bits and pieces of her story as it went to make it more acceptable, and figured she could always tell him the truth about that day in a few years; the priority was to keep him calm. "Nothing happened, Michael, I promise. I kicked him where no man wants to be kicked and I escaped; he looked very stupid, plus I'm sure the agent who arrived with him gave him serious punishment for letting me run away."

Although it seemed as though nothing she added helped remotely, because Michael was stuck on the very beginning of her sentence. "I swear to god!" He shouted. "I'll kill him."

"OK Michael, calm down a sec? I understand that you're processing but this room isn't soundproof, and I'm pretty sure a lot of people can hear it when you yell." 

But Michael didn't seem to care one bit about that detail. He had never liked T-bag, in fact he'd always hated him, and the single thought of him laying one finger on Sara made him want to watch him writhe in pain before putting an end to his misery.

"Michael." Sara repeated, slightly worried at the sight of her boyfriend in this state; he was shaking. "OK, calm down." She slid her hands over both sides of his face; it was a flawless technique, every time he got angry like that, all she had to do was make him at her, then their eyes would meet in an ocean of blue and brown, and every bit of anger would disappear from his azure gaze.

Michael got up quick and stiff as a spring, anger blazing in his eyes.

This time, eye-contact wasn't enough. "He touched you!" He yelled, and Sara's hands fell back on her lap when he rose. He started walking towards the edge of the room, the knuckles of one tight fist pressed against his forehead, and a second later he was smashing it against the wall.

"Michael!" Sara cried in a worried protest; she understood that he needed time to deal with his own anger for a while, and that was fine as long as he didn't break his hand in the process. She stood up as well and reached out to him, lacing both her hands over his shoulders, as she attempted to lure him away from the wall. 

Just when she thought she was making progress, he stared back at her, and blue hysterical flames dances across his eyes. "Did he hit you?" He asked, and his seriousness almost worried her more than mad rage.

"What?"

"Come on. How much longer do I have to pretend not to see that thing on your face?"

Sara remained silent from startle, and it took her a second to get it; unconsciously, she ran the back of her hand across her cheekbone, where a bruise had started to form in a betraying reddened flesh.

Michael kept serious, although she could distinguish the guilt in his eyes – she'd seen it too many times not to. "Did he do that to you?" He asked again, and she swallowed.

"No." She bit her lip, hesitating down to the last second until she remembered – no more lies. And so she finished. "Kellerman did."

The last sparkle of sanity escaped his dark gaze; the anger burned in his eyes and quivered on his lips, his hands were fists, but he kept calm – he kept motionless. Then, placid but determined, he started walking towards the door again. He didn't need to extend on what his intentions were.

"Wait. Michael!" She called, and stepped in front of him to block the exit.

"Get out of the way, Sara." He did his best to contain his rage when he addressed to her.

"This is ridiculous, Michael," she ignored his order, "you're ridiculous. In the state you're in, you'd hit anyone."

"Well, I want to hit him in particular!"

"Oh yeah, is that so? You just punched a wall, smartass."

"Sara." He articulated. "Move."

She stood still and appraised him quietly, then realize. "You'll kill him if I do."

"So?" The sudden sliver of anger that burst in his voice contracted with her calm. "Isn't that what you wanted me to do, Sara? To _fight_ for you?" He looked so mad she wondered if he wasn't simply going to propel her out of the way or knock the door down. "You wanted that, didn't you?!" He shouted. "For me to act on how much how care about you, how much I love you?!" He screamed so loud anyone would have taken a reflexive step backwards by now, but Sara remained unflinching. She'd never seen him more angry or serious than at that second, when he finished. "Why don't you move out of the way. And I'll show you." 

But she didn't move. She stood there, immobile, still wearing that dead serious expression and he grew impatient. "What?"

"You said you loved me." She answered, matter-of-factly.

"And?"

"And you've never said it to me before."

"Sure I did."

"I would have remembered."

"Well, I love you!" He shouted again, almost plainly annoyed. "Are you satisfied?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she swallowed what was going to be his name madly-yelled argument with her lips, as she clamped her mouth over his, putting the discussion on pause. Michael's body reacted before his brain could, and he kissed her back with so much ardor he lifted her from the floor.

Then he stepped back hurriedly, almost as though her skin had burned his lips. Rational-Michael tried to step back in. He was too angry back now. If he let this happen right now, like this, she might regret it. And then, as a few seconds went by, he simply realized that if he didn't keep kissing her right now, he felt like he'd die. Maybe he didn't need to break Kellerman's face. Maybe he didn't need to kill T-bag. Maybe plainly needed to explode.

He locked both hands around her waist and lifted her up once more, forcing her to wrap her legs around his hips before they both landed on the bed. He threw her shirt on the floor, got rid of her bra, and the maddening passion his eyes, touch and lips contrasted with the almost-mechanical carelessness of his movements.

He told her he loved her again; he probably said it a dozen of times. Breathed into her ribcage when he went to undo her jeans, and into the hollow of her ear when she urged him back closer to her. She said it to him too; last time she'd said it – it was also the first – dated from when they'd broken up, and he decided that it sounded better now, when she let the words out in hoarse ragged breaths, as though she could hardly think anymore but she knew it for sure. She'd always known. Hastily undressing her while she fumbled to get him rid of his own shirt, he was certain of it somehow.

Then suddenly she grabbed his hands just when he was about to dive into her underwear, and beyond all logics, he felt himself blush like a rookie teenage boy caught making a wrong move. He stared at her with inquisitive eyes, apologetic too, just in case he had troubled her in some way.

She looked incredibly serious when she asked. "Did you lock the door?" Her tone forbade all attempt of amused laughter, and it clearly indicated that it was too early to mock about the previous interruptions that had bothered their intimate life.

Though Michael did his best to stifle a chuckle, he couldn't quite repress a slight smile. "Um…" He pondered. "I think I yelled loud enough earlier to discourage anyone to dare come near our room."

She seemed to genuinely consider it for a second, before Michael threw her jeans on the floor and she couldn't think anymore; she closed her eyes while he ran his hands over her legs, stroking smooth alabaster skin, and while he pressed kisses to her collarbone, she laced her hands over the base of his neck. Their eyes met before either of them could avoid the contact, and she might have if she'd known it'd make his hands on her thighs go still; but she couldn't summon the strength to look away.

He buried a hand in her hair softly, eyes still locked with hers as he asked. "Do you love me?"

"Yes." Of course.

"Do you trust me?"

She took her time to answer, yet for some reason she was certain he didn't mistaken her silence for hesitation. With her eyes still into his, she whispered solemnly. "With my life."

...

A few hours later they were still lying on the bed in each other's arms; he held her tightly, one hand wrapped around her waist while he played with her hand with the other, running his fingers through red silk-like locks tirelessly. She lazily stroked over his bare shoulder, watching him while his blue gaze was lost ahead – sometimes, she wondered if Michael Scofield would ever be able not to think, just for a moment. To simply enjoy present time without bothering with plans.

"We should get dressed." He suggested out of the blues, and Sara frowned, almost insulted.

"Absolutely not." She disagreed with such seriousness that he chuckled.

"Well," he defended, "we can't stay in bed all day. Buffy lent us the room for a few hours so we could talk, but…" He smiled at the sight of his blushing girlfriend, and finished. "I kind of need to talk to her. About – war, and stuff." He reminded. "I made a promise."

She nodded, not forgetting to look as sad and miserable as a beaten puppy, and his grin enlarged before he commanded. "Stop being – cute."

Unable to repress her amusement any longer, she chuckled and smothered her own laughter while pressing her lips to her boyfriend's mouth. She made it brief as a sign of good faith, and rested her head in the crook of his neck.

She exhaled softly. "I want every day to be like this one."

"They will be." He promised and kissed her on the cheek.

Then he got up, ever so serious, and started searching through his clothes, half of which were scattered on the floor. Sara let out a long-suffering sigh before she started to do the same.

...

They met Buffy down stairs and were surprised to see that, apart from her, the house seemed empty. She seemed to do her best to suppress a grin, which was full of suggestions. "There you guys are." She said, and Michael laughed while Sara's cheeks turned red.

"Where's everybody?" The young man asked, and Buffy responded right away.

"The backyard. They're training." She took a step closer to Michael. "Look, I know you said you'd fight with us, but I want you to know that nobody here's going to force you to do anything you don't want to. That includes me." She clarified. "The two of you and Big Brother are free to just walk away."

"To go where?" Sara muttered and Michael agreed.

"She's right. If the human race is at stake, this concerns us as much as you."

"All right," Buffy agreed, "I just wanted to make sure you knew all your options. Kind of a way to give you the choice I never had. But if you are going to do this, I want you to start training right away." While she explained, she started leading them down the stairs. "Nowadays, people fight with guns. Except that in this case, against the enemy we're up against, fire weapons are as useless as a plastic spatula."

She opened the door that led to the backyard; Michael had already seen once, but it was a first for Sara, and she couldn't help but stare. The place was enormous, it looked more like a field than a garden. Human-shaped targets stood in the back, where various weapons lay widespread. Sara also spotted a tall wooden wall, which visibly marked the end of the training field – the young woman assumed some sort of spell must have been cast on the whole place to provide invisibility or something; she just couldn't picture the neighbors' reaction if they saw what was going on next door. Hundreds of weapons hung from across the wall, and Sara caught herself searching for pins and nails before she figured magic had to be holding them in place…

This was definitely going to take some getting used to, the young woman thought as her eyes fell upon axes, swords and crossbows. She only realized her mouth was wide open when Buffy grinned at her, and she hurriedly closed it. Michael laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, and the mere warmth of it was almost enough to make her forget how crazy this all was.

The three of them stepped into the backyard. From the very first second, it felt obvious to Sara that Buffy was the leader here – she called the shots. It's the only thing she could conclude when the blonde succeeded to obtain the entire field's attention, putting an end to the dominating chaos. "Listen up, everybody." She spoke loud enough to be heard, yet without shouting. "Everyone here knows how to slay a vampire, you either cut its head off, stake it in the heart or set it on fire, but I want you all to remember vampires aren't all you'll be fighting against out there. Most likely, we'll get a few demons on our hands too, and these ones fight with swords." Few amused chuckles spread among the crowd at the innuendo in Buffy's statement. "So I want you all to find a pair and start sword fighting, all right? Let's say the aim is to disarm your opponent."

"We're going to get killed." Sara hadn't realized she'd spoken the words out loud until Buffy's blue eyes met hers.

"Don't worry," she said to her attention, "the swords are provided with an invisible shield." She shrugged. "At worse, you'll get a few bruises."

Sara nodded, not exactly reassured, and started to look into the crowd. She wasn't too sure who she was searching for – at least, if Michael asked, she'd deny it completely. But of the four of them, Paul was the only one who hadn't gotten the slightest bit of hint concerning the existence of vampires and monsters, and she worried a little about how his rational mind would take the hit. 

It felt wrong to search for Kellerman while Michael's hand was still wrapped around her shoulder, but soon the thought of feeling guilty didn't matter – she felt him approach like a mouse senses the presence of a snake. Small hairs bristled on her neck and arms – yes, she was positive she knew he was standing right behind her, before the honey-soft low intonations of his voice stirred unwilling sensations in the pit of her abdomen.

All he said was. "Do you want to pair, beautiful?" 

She could have looked terrified when turning around – she only acknowledged it when she realized she was relieved. He didn't look too freaked out, he didn't look like he'd been requesting for dozens of different proofs that he hadn't been administrated hallucinatory drugs. In fact, he was smirking. Sara would have never thought before that day that she would be grateful for that smirk.

Michael's hand tightened around her shoulder when she was about to answer, and something felt wrong about it, almost as though he had been _trying_ to shut her up – the way his fingers tightened around her was almost painful. Obviously, he hadn't worked out all of his rage issues.

"Sure," the young man spoke coldly – so coldly that if words could kill, Kellerman would be as dead as it gets by now. "That's a good idea. That way you can get the opportunity to hit her again."

Sara felt somewhere between angry, outraged and a little bit awkward – almost as though part of her wanted to throw an apologetic look in Kellerman's direction, one that would mean: _sorry, my boyfriend and I have a no-lying policy_. Though when she looked at Paul, she recognized the impassivity on his face, and it awakened inside of her something that was no longer worry – something that might just well be pain.

"Leave it, Michael." She spoke, unaware herself whether it was an order or a plea. Then she turned towards Paul and gave him a judgmental look. "And you, stop with the face."

He frowned, innocent as a lamb. "What face?"

"That face!" 

Lincoln emerged behind them before any of the three others could speak, and he tapped Michael on the shoulder, visibly excited. "Hey baby brother. You heard? We're going to fight with swords. Isn't that awesome?"

"Uh – sure."

"So," his older brother said, "you're teaming up with me?"

"Well, I was going to team with Sara."

"Yeah," Kellerman spoke, teasing, but icy cold. "That's all right, Sara. You and I will find a way to pair sooner or later, take my word."

He grinned and the young woman glared at him – his smile was as ruthless as eyes; she knew exactly what he was doing. Or at least, after all that had happened, she was starting to get an idea. It was his way of getting even with Michael, his way of defending and getting the last word even if he knew this was a lost fight – he knew he wouldn't get _her_. He pretended not to see the knowledge in her eyes as he started walking away.

Michael let go of Sara's shoulder hurriedly, as though he was afraid he might have crushed it otherwise. "You –" he began, furious.

Buffy walked to them before the young man had a chance to attack. "Is everything all right here? You all should know that this area is reserved to _fake_ fighting." A silence settled in, and for a moment Kellerman and Michael just glared at each other, almost as though they were trying to commit murder with their eyes. "Well," Buffy spoke, expectantly. "What the hell happened between you two?"

Almost unconsciously, both Michael and Paul's eyes set on Sara. The young woman blushed immediately.

"Oh," Buffy said in comprehension, "that kind of conflict. Okay. I want both of you at two opposite ends of the field, starting from now." She added. "We already have enough with one war ahead."

Michael let out an angry sigh but complied, and Kellerman waited a second longer – he just glanced at Sara, whose cheeks had reached a bright red color, before he started walking in the opposite way.

"Well," Buffy shrugged, "try to see the upsides of this. You've got two hot guys fighting for you."

Sara smiled shyly for an answer, before she turned towards Lincoln and attempted a peace offering smile. "Do you want to team with me?"

He didn't look particularly mad that she'd brought Kellerman into the team, but he winced nonetheless. "I don't know, Sara, I'm sort of afraid I'd hurt you. You should pick someone your own size."

Sara's jaw opened slack before she managed. "Did you just say that to my face?"

"What?" He said. "Come on, it's true. I'm sorry if it sounds Cro-Magnon, but I'd beat you in no time." He looked at Buffy, visibly searching for support. "Right?"

The young blonde arched a brow before grinning. "Do you think you could disarm me as easily?"

Lincoln quickly appraised her petite silhouette, before deciding that he couldn't come up with an honest answer that would please the two women. "Well…" He said, a bit awkwardly.

Buffy burst into laughter, genuinely amused. "Okay, that's it big boy. We're teaming up, and may the best man win."

Lincoln sighed apologetically, before mumbling. "Your funeral."

"Wait," Sara complained, "then who do I team up with?" But the two of them had already started walking away. She sighed before sweeping over the perimeter with her eyes; she spotted a young girl, with dark long hair and brown eyes, who Lincoln would have probably qualified of 'of her own size'. Also, they both looked as lost. "Hey," Sara greeted, almost shyly. "Do you want to – pair?"

The young girl lifted doe eyes towards her, veiled by long lashes. "Sure." She said with a slight sigh of relief. "I was kind of afraid I'd have to team up with someone like the tall guy who was with you a moment ago."

Sara couldn't repress a chuckle at the thought of someone considering Lincoln a dangerous man. "He's all right," she simply said.

The young girl extended her hand with a smile, somewhere between polite, relieved and coy. "I'm Elena Gilbert." She introduced herself.

"Sara." The young woman responded, before remembering in a flash of panic that she was a wanted woman. "Mackintosh." She added too quickly, before mentally scolding herself. _Mackintosh_? Sara shook her head, focused on clumsy words, and both girls remained unaware that they had already met only a few days ago, in the middle of the night, into one of the dark alleys of Mystic Falls.

"Okay," Elena said with a nod, "well, let's go pick some weapons."

…

Except that, as Sara realized she'd been isolated with men ever since the escape, she also acknowledged how long it'd been since she'd had a friendly conversation with someone, as uncomplicated as it sounded, and the two girls didn't stick to training for long. Sara learned that Elena had gotten here only yesterday, but also that she'd known about vampires since her teenage years.

"Wow." Sara let out; the sword she'd picked out earlier was uselessly hanging from her hand. "Since you were seventeen?"

"Yeah." She chuckled before adding coyly. "A vampire saved me from drowning."

"Really?" Sara frowned slightly. "Aren't vampires – evil, or something?"

"Oh, he is." Elena hastily nodded. "I mean, they are."

"Okay." Sara agreed, only a bit dubious because this was visibly a touchy subject. "So you didn't, hum – you didn't fall for him or anything, did you?"

The young girl lowered her eyes. "Well…" she probably wouldn't have needed to elaborate up to this point. "Kind of. Actually yeah, totally. But it's okay, a lot of people fell for vampires in the town I came from."

"Oh." Sara uttered, unsure of what to say. "So um – where is he now?"

"Training." She answered, though something changed in her voice slightly. "With the other side, I guess."

"Oh." Sara said again, unsure what to add so she settled for the obvious. "I'm sorry." She shrugged. "For what it's worth, I think I kind of have a thing for bad guys too." 

Elena didn't have time to ask for details before Buffy walked past them. "Come on girls," she scolded with a smile, the one of someone who's used to be a student but gets to play the part of a teacher. "Less chatting and more training."

"Right." Sara said, begrudgingly; she already felt out of her element since she'd joined Michael and Lincoln after the escape, but now it plainly felt like being useless. She already had a hard time lifting the sword with both hands, and fighting with it seemed a little beyond her capacities. Her only comfort was that Elena seemed to be having just as much trouble with her own sword, and when the began training, it felt a bit more like fighting their weapons than themselves.

At least, it seemed that they were both at the same level, and from time to time, the absurdity of what was happening around her hit Sara like a sudden realization, crushing in. She was wrestling with a _sword_, or at least trying to, in a field filled with _witches_ and god knew what else, and all this in the aim to fight at war against _vampires_. As odd as it was for Sara to think of it now, she suddenly pictured her father's face, the way he looked when he scolded her as a child, stern and severe.

Supernatural conflicts are _not_ for good girls, he'd say no doubt.

She focused back on the challenge ahead of her – mostly the sword and not Elena – as she thought maybe, after all of her father's efforts and years of lecturing, she just wasn't a good girl.

"Wow." Elena said after a while, trying to catch her breath. "Can we take a break or something?"

"Yeah."

The young girl dropped on a bench, and Sara sat next to her, exhausted as well. Plus, she was starting to get a headache from the sound of metal meeting metal. Carelessly, she began rearranging her ponytail when Elena gasped next to her. "Oh my god."

"What?" Sara said, immediately worried.

"Uh –" She seemed to hesitate whether or not she should be discreet before she blurted. "There's a totally hot guy checking you out over there."

Sara followed the young girl's eyes, only to set them on Paul; he smiled at her, visibly not one bit ashamed of himself, and Sara observed he didn't look exhausted at all – also, she wondered for how long he'd been staring at her like that.

"He, um…" She cleared her throat before saying, to Elena's attention. "He's a friend." _I think_, was added in her mind only.

Elena didn't counter, but frowned slightly. "Oh." She said, only a bit awkwardly. "Sorry to tell you that from over there, that's not really what he looks like."

"Stop staring." Sara said, afraid she'd end up blushing like a silly schoolgirl.

"Are you going out with him or something?"

"_No_." Sara defended, and blindly observed that, after ten minutes of training, they'd gotten back to chatting. Then she added for good measure. "I have a boyfriend."

"Oh." Elena said again before asking, her tone a bit lower. "Is he hot too?"

Sara cleared her throat; she didn't have to answer that, and yet she heard herself admit. "Yes." It was probably isolation talking, and both girls started laughing before their conversation was interrupted.

"Good afternoon, ladies." Sara choked when she recognized Michael's voice, and blushed again. Her boyfriend was smiling, unusually smug, and it was impossible not to acknowledge that he'd been listening to at least part of their discussion.

"Michael." Sara feigned innocence in an attempt to chase the red from her cheeks, "We were just talking about you."

He feigned surprise. "Really?"

"Mmh." Sara nodded while Elena mouthed the words: _is he the boyfriend_? She seemed to have decided Sara had reasons for being faithful to him.

"Nice to meet you," he said to Elena, ever so polite. "I'm Michael."

"Elena," she said shaking the hand he was offering her, "hi."

The young man smiled before turning back towards Sara. "I just wanted to see if you wanted to do some training."

"Go ahead," Elena said before the young woman go answer, "I'll go get myself something to drink. I don't think we made much progress anyway." She walked away with a shy smile to give them some privacy, but Sara could still feel Kellerman's eyes on her.

Michael glanced in the same direction and tensed slightly at the sight of the agent, arms crossed on his chest, his blue eyes still set on Sara; but he was no longer smiling. Michael looked back at his girlfriend. "I still want to kill him." He informed.

She found it impossible to determine just how much he was joking, so she just laid a sympathetic hand upon his shoulder. "Well, try to behave. For me," she added, making her eyes tender.

"Well," he answered teasingly, "I might manage, if you help me with that other urge I've been feeling." Her slight chuckle was smothered by a soft kiss, and although Sara didn't push him back, she kept it decent nonetheless.

Kellerman kept his eyes on the couple; the rage that invaded him every time he saw Scofield with the young woman was as powerful as always, but he wasn't unused to it anymore. He didn't have to fight as hard to repress the urge to tear Scofield off of Sara, throw him onto that big wall over there and take care of the unfinished business with the girl.

He was almost grateful for an excuse to look away when a young man called him. "Hey man, you want to do some fighting?"

Kellerman chuckled humorlessly, the image of the kissing couple still stuck in his head. "You have no idea." He answered.

...

"Well, I see some mashed potatoes." Michael announced.

It was about two in the afternoon and they had gone upstairs to get something to eat, since Buffy now considered it was too dangerous to leave the house, because apparently the streets of Sunnydale had gone that bad, she had filled the fridges and shelves enough to feed a whole town.

"Sure." His girlfriend answered, sitting on the counter. It felt odd to be this empty house and know that it was crowded at night, to know what was going on in the backyard. Michael handed her a plate and a fork, and she smiled for a thank you. At the very first bite, she realized how hungry she was. "You know," she said with a moan, as the taste of potatoes and butter filled her mouth, "I think I barely ate anything since the day before yesterday."

"Yeah." Michael said. "About that, did you really share a motel room with Kellerman?"

He made it sound so ridiculous that she felt a bit ashamed to admit. "Well, yes. But he slept on the couch," she added to appease him, and he muttered something that sounded like 'I would have made him sleep on the floor' before he swallowed a full fork of his own meal.

Sara rolled her eyes and teased. "What is it, Scofield? You jealous?"

"Yeah, right."

She chuckled helplessly as she shook her head. "That's funny." She commented and her boyfriend arched a brow, visibly having a hard time seeing the humor in their situation.

"How is any of this funny?"

"It just is." She said before climbing down from the counter, finishing her meal with one last bite and putting her plate in the dishwasher. "Well," she went on, "I'm going to go back downstairs to train some more, okay?" He nodded and she asked. "Meet me there?"

He grinned. "You know," he said instead of answering, "Buffy specified we had the bedroom for ourselves all day long. How about I wait for you there instead and you meet me when you're finished?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Don't take to long," he said, watching her leave.

…

First, the young woman changed into something lighter; she'd learned today that jeans and sweatshirts weren't the ideal clothes to work out, and so she traded them for an outfit Buffy had recommended and let her borrow: shorts and a sleeveless flexible top, which stopped a few inches above her belly button. It was absolutely not the sort of thing Sara was used to wear, but this was the middle of summer, and it made her feel a little less nude to observe that all the girls were wearing the same thing. Plus, it wasn't as though fashion was a priority at the moment; when she got back to the field, she was careful to pick a smaller sword this time.

She didn't get the opportunity to use it before she heard Kellerman's voice behind her. "Where's Scofield?" He was grinning when she turned around, and he'd lost the jacket for a simple gray shirt, which discovered a strong musculature but that didn't reach exaggerate proportions. She suddenly blushed at the thought that she was checking him out, even though didn't seem to be ashamed doing the same thing.

His eyes moved over her body skillfully; since that one time he'd caught a glimpse of her in a towel, he hadn't seen her so – uncovered. He had to admit, there were some upsides to this whole thing in the end.

Sara answered him, even though it looked like he'd forgotten his own question. "Michael's upstairs."

"Uh-huh." He uttered carelessly without registering one word, before he finally lifted his eyes to meet hers. "So, do you want to train?" He was teasing, of course, but beneath the attitude, there was something more genuine to his offer – it was almost like an apology.

She let out a sigh, shaking her head without being able to conceal her amusement. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" She said. "This whole war thing?"

"Enjoying it?" He echoed. "Hardly. I'll have you know this morning, I found a dragon in my room."

Unable to determine whether he was serious or not, she shook her head and changed subject. Though she smiled back at him; his smile was too sincere for her not to. "You have to stop being like that when Michael's around," she said and he sighed.

"Oh please," he said, "he starts it most of the time. And besides, I'm only _teasing_."

"Yeah, well he is _seriously_ going to break your face if you keep doing it. Sorry to burst the bubble, but he kind of hates your guts." 

He pointed out, challenging. "I'm not a big fan of him either."

"Would you please just make an effort, Paul?" She asked, unaware of the slight shiver that ran over him when she spoke his name. "For me?"

He waited a second – stalled – before he surrendered, begrudgingly. "Fine. I'll do my best." He raised the sword he held in hand slightly. "You can thank me by letting me help you train, I'd like to make sure you don't get killed any time soon."

She sighed when she agreed. "Fine. But I'm terrible at it."

"I know, I watched you." He ignored her feigned outrage and went on. "You start by taking it slow." Their swords met in a sharp noise.

"They taught you to fight with a sword when you became a spy?" Sara mocked gently.

"They taught me everything there," he said, catching her off guard as he attacked again, and she barely managed to block it with her own weapon. "They taught me to fire a gun," he pursued, going quicker with each word, "endurance, about a dozen different languages…" His last hit caused her to drop her sword, and she didn't have time to pick it up before the steel pointy end of his weapon threatened her – he'd aimed for her heart. She might have been scared a week ago but it was different now; if he'd wanted to kill her, he would have done so long ago. He smiled slightly. "Got you."

The young woman swallowed, incapable of lowering her eyes from his. She was starting to feel a hint of discomfort now, but it had nothing at all to do with fear. "I see that," she managed, "maybe now that you've proven how terrible at this I am, you could –" She didn't finish her sentence, instead simply lowered her eyes towards his sword, and he only kept it still for a few more seconds before he lowered it down to the floor.

"Come on," he teased, "let's see if there's any sport you're good at."

...

"A little bit higher," he ordered. She was standing at the end of the field, aiming for one of the human-shaped like targets from all across the yard. Her hands were slightly shaking around the crossbow.

"The heart, right?" She inquired, wavering.

"Yes. Now quit stalling."

She obeyed and pulled the trigger, only to see her arrow miss the target from several meters and bounce uselessly against the limit-wall. "Was that bad?" She wondered, and he did his best to hide his amusement.

"Well, I won't lie to you, Sara, it wasn't _good_."

"Fine. I suck."

He couldn't help but raise a brow at her choice of words. "What are you, thirteen? Okay, look," he positioned himself behind her and molded his arms to hers, lifting the crossbow a bit closer to her face. Then he placed his hand over hers to handle the weapon, and an unwilling shiver escaped her at the contact of his breath near her ear. "You have to stand up straight. You don't want your arrow to deflect from the target again." He lowered a hand to hip and she swallowed, as he straightened her position slightly. He had to admit he was taking just a little bit advantage of all of this. "Now try." He ordered, and the arrow landed inside the straw-stuffed target as she pulled the trigger. "See?" he breathed. "You just need a little practice."

Footsteps sounded behind them, and Sara gasped at the sound of her boyfriend's voice. "And you need to learn about the word boundaries."

She immediately untangled herself from Paul and turned to face Michael. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot you were waiting –"

"He was touching you." Michael interrupted, dead serious as Sara replied miserably.

"He was teaching me how to fire a crossbow."

"And time sure flies when you're having fun," Kellerman added, the promise he'd made Sara about behaving swept away from his mind at the delight of taunting the young man.

Michael took a threatening step closer to him, stopped by Sara's hand falling upon his shoulder. "Don't, let's just drop it."

"I saw the two of you." He countered and repeated. "He was touching you."

"He was _teaching_ me." 

"Why can't Buffy teach you?"

"Come on, Michael," Sara sighed, "this is getting ridiculous. Let's go." She managed to summon enough calm in her tone to convince her boyfriend, and she forced herself not to look back at Paul when she started walking away with Michael.

"Well," Kellerman spoke behind them, loud enough to be heard. "I'll see you later then, Sara. Maybe next time I'll teach you this other sport I'm _really_ good at."

Michael stopped in his stride, his hold on Sara's hand causing her to stop too. She dared a glance her boyfriend, hoping that the overheard comment wouldn't have upset him as much as she knew it had. He was basically breathing fire, and so she made her eyes as pleading as possible. "Michael. _Please_, let's go." Though part of her knew he wouldn't. There were limits to what he could take.

He dropped her hand against her protests and walked to Kellerman, his pace decided and unhesitating as he punched him the face. That's obviously what his rival was waiting for. He didn't waste a second before returning the hit. "Stop it!" Sara shouted as she tried to get between them. "This is ridiculous, come on!" And then, suddenly, her boyfriend was ripped off Kellerman and pushed brutally against a wall, and Kellerman was held firmly at distance.

"A little help here?" Buffy said, as Sara recovered from her surprise slowly – she would have never thought a girl of her stature could be so strong. "Sara?" Buffy urged, having a hard time restraining both men, and the young woman hurried to help her, gripping a hand over Paul's shoulder because she knew he could push her aside as easily said than done, but she was the only person in this world who didn't need strength to hold him back. She only needed to stand in front his way and glare at him, and part of his anger disappeared at the hurt in her eyes.

Michael vainly tried to break free from Buffy's hold. "Come on, let go of me."

"If you pull something like that again," she warned, "I'll glue you to that wall." He nodded and she put him down. "Now you guys, I don't want that ever happening again, you understand me? I don't want fights among the team, so you're going to tell me _right_ now what the hell it is that got you this riled up."

"It's kind of a long story," Sara said at Michael's lack of answer.

"Well work on your issues then," the young blonde said. "Work things out because if you don't, I swear to god I'll lock all three of you in a room until you're all BFFs."

"That ought to be fun." Kellerman commented in a mutter.

Sara ignored him as she answered. "We understand."

Buffy assessed all three of them with her eyes before she said. "Good," and walked away.

A short awkward moment of silence set in and Sara picked the first excuse that came to her. "I'm going to go shower." Kellerman seemed to hesitate a moment on whether or not he should comment that statement, but he visibly decided that it was too soon. Michael just glared at him briefly before he joined Sara.

"Sara," her boyfriend called, trying to follow her pace. "I know you're angry."

"Good." Was all she said; and she was still not waiting for him.

"Well, then um –" He tried to estimate just how angry she was. "Are we still going upstairs?" There was almost shyness in his voice.

She answered as coldly as humanly possible. "I am."

...

It was about one a.m.; every single bedroom of the house was occupied, and few sleeping bags were displayed in every room. Michael watched Sara until she fell asleep, wrapped in a sleeping bag herself; the young man didn't feel at all like sleeping. Buffy was right, he figured, they had a problem, and he intended to take care of it.

He met Kellerman in the field, which was deserted at this hour. "I wasn't sure you'd come." Michael just said. "Why did you?"

The other man grinned humorless. "Curiosity."

"I want to make a deal." Michael said, and didn't wait for Kellerman to reply before he spoke. "You go your way and we go ours. You leave this place tonight and I won't go looking for you. You get a new start."

"I don't think so."

Michael arched a brow in feigned surprise; he'd visibly been expecting a refusal. "Really? Why not?" He challenged. "Why are you so eager to get involved into a war? It isn't your fight."

"Since I am part of the human race, it is my fight."

"Why don't you stop playing games?" Michael interrupted with all the seriousness in the world. "That's not the reason you're here and we both know it."

Paul forced on a joyless smile. "What's your point?"

"Sara told me you saved her life," the young man said instead of answer. "Why did you?"

Kellerman shrugged, feigning carelessness. "Maybe I'm growing a heart?"

"Funny," the young man said without an ounce of humor, "that's exactly the reason I had in mind."

"What _exactly_ are you implying?"

Michael took a step forward. "What I'm implying, you son of a bitch, is that you're in love with her." He stared at his rival straight in the eyes before he finished. "Aren't you?"

Kellerman remained of ice. "I'm not in love with anybody."

"And I'm honestly tempted to believe you," Michael said, "because I can't conceive how you could love her and hurt her the way you did."

Paul swallowed and answered before he could help. "Things have changed." His voice wavered slightly at the sensation of this smothering guilt waving in again.

"Yeah?" Michael said, visible rage in his cold blue eyes. "You slapped her just yesterday. You left her alone with T-bag, if you loved her exactly how could you have let all of this happen?" He watched Kellerman's jaw clench, anger and shame blazing in his eyes, but the young man wasn't finished. "And how come," he went, "after all that's happened, how come she protects you? What happened yesterday that made her changer mind about you?"

Paul waited before he answered, but it had nothing alike hesitation. He didn't say it proudly, either. "We have a connection, Sara and I."

Michael couldn't repress a slight burst of humorless laughter. "I believe that you think that, Paul." He said. "You now what? I don't even blame you for falling in love with her. She's so sweet," something helplessly changed in his voice when he mentioned her, "to anyone. Even those who don't deserve it." He stopped for a moment, still staring at Kellerman straight in the eyes. "You might think that it's special, the way she is to you, but it's simply her nature to be kind. To anybody."

"Well," Paul said, still undoubting yet polite, "I wasn't expecting you to understand. She loves you, Michael, I'm not stupid enough to deny that she does, but the thing is, Sara and I have something that even the two of you will never have. It's not something that can be explained or described, but it's there, and it's real. I know it." He marked a short pause before finishing his sentence. "And so does she."


	14. Chapter 14

_"__You know you only hurt yourself out of spite. I guess you'd rather be a martyr tonight."_

_Billy Joel_

...

Sara woke up in the middle of the night, slithered comfortably inside a thick sleeping bag, stretched out on the living room floor, where five more improvised bunks had been settled. Unable to go back to sleep, she got up; her senses were weakened by the darkness, and she did her best not to step on anyone as she exited the room blindly.

The clock read ten to one a.m., and yet tiredness wouldn't creep in. It left place to excitement and enthusiasm; training, yesterday, had just felt so surreal she wouldn't have been surprised to realize that it had all been a dream. The argument between Michael and Paul occurred to her also; and 'argument' was a true euphemism. Michael had started the fight, technically speaking, but who could really say who was to blame when Kellerman had provoked him into it? _After_ he'd promised her to behave. So to make things simple, she decided to plainly be angry at both of them; but perhaps her annoyance towards Michael was a bit shallower, a bit closer to plain frustration. It was different with Paul.

A sigh of sarcasm escaped her as she realized. It would _always_ be different with Paul.

He had _looked_ for trouble, almost as though he wanted to start a fight. Almost as though he wanted to be hated.

She suddenly had the tempting idea to go downstairs and practice some more, to take her mind off of things. Buffy had said that the field would be open to anyone, every day of the week twenty-four hours a day, but Sara doubted anybody would be down there at this hour of the night.

She had enjoyed practicing so far; granted, it was exhausting, but when she had reached the target with that crossbow, she'd just felt... not helpless anymore. Of course, she would have never succeeded if Paul hadn't been there. She couldn't help but shiver when she remembered his hand snaking on her waist. He had taken advantage of the situation a little bit.

... 

"Wow." Michael uttered. "You're really that stupid."

Paul shrugged. "Like I said, I didn't expect you to understand."

"I understand just fine." The young man countered. "I even honestly believe you think you have a connection with her, you've just gotten the wrong idea, Paul. Sara hates you." 

Kellerman said nothing. He didn't have the patience nor the will to try to convince the girl's boyfriend; besides, there was no way to prove what was there, even if he'd wanted to. Michael hadn't been there, two days ago, in the forest; he hadn't _seen_. Sara's words replayed in his mind when, feigning indifference, he'd asked why she'd care if he were to get killed; she could have said "I don't", but she'd answered "I don't know". Then she'd said "I like you", a while later, in the motel room they'd shared. And of course, there was that moment he would never forget. He could still feel his skin burning with her touch when she'd held him, and it had occurred to him he had never experienced gentleness before in his life, the way he did that night. It probably qualified as the best night of his life.

And that moment could never be taken away by anyone, no matter their past nor their future; not even by Michael Scofield.

Besides, these moments… They weren't hate.

"No she doesn't." Kellerman insisted, calm but confident.

Michael was just as self-assured. "Oh yes she does. You simply don't know that because you're not the one who quiets her when she wakes up screaming at night, shaking, still reeling from a nightmare that has you in it, only we both know they're not nightmares. They're memories." 

Kellerman's jaw clenched, but Michael ignored it and went on.

"You're not the one who watches that broken look in her eyes when I ask her who put the bruises on her face, or the scars on her back. You're not the one who has to remind her that she's safe, that she won't be hurt again, that she made it out of New Mexico alive. You're not the one who's there for her!" He was shouting now. "You never were. So go back where you came from, go back working for them! And let us be!"

A horrible silence started setting, which was disrupted seconds later as a light noise near the door sounded in the field.

Both men's eyes flew to the woman. Sara was standing by the door, eyes filled with a knowing disappointment. She couldn't not have heard the last part of their conversation.

"Sara." Michael managed. He didn't ask what she was doing here, nor did he have the time to. Before a single second went by, she ran right back out the door. Michael threw a glare in Kellerman's way before he went after her. "You did this." He said, and disappeared out the door also.

Paul remained motionless. Of course, not moving was about the last thing he wanted to do; what he wanted was to go to her and hold her, the way she had when he was distraught. But he didn't move. It wasn't him she needed. It'd never been him. He felt rage was about to burst in and he grabbed an ax from the wall, then blindly threw it towards one of the human-shaped targets. It was cut in half, and straw came pouring out.

He wanted to be in Scofield's shoes, because the boy's words hadn't only triggered anger, as he'd described the young woman's distress, throughout everything – Kellerman had felt envy. He wanted to be the one. The one who'd be there for her, the one she would need. He could neither consider or believe that all she felt for him was fear, regrets and pity. Here he was, teasing and standing with confidence, like a perfect fool, when truth was, he was months too late. He wasn't just inexcusable. He was unforgivable.

And in a mere second, things felt clear. Some things in life were irreversible. Love didn't come with a clear sign or an identification plate. He'd spent twenty years believing he loved a woman, and these feelings were so cold, so contradictory and wicked that when real love had been blown in his face, he hadn't recognized it. He hadn't recognized it.

Then, he stepped outside his own situation and thought of Sara, and faced something that ne never wanted to have to face again.

She'd be better off without him.

"Sara, please wait!"

The young woman heard Michael calling her name, but she didn't want to listen. Tears of pain and rage were boiling behind her lids. She walked quickly and made her way out of the house through the backdoor; rain was pouring outside, but she'd never cared less.

"Sara!" Michael shouted again. He had reached the door too, but remained inside the house. "Get back in here!" He pleaded. "The protection spell Willow cast doesn't spread to the streets, you're not safe here! Come on, get back home."

"There is no home, Michael!" She screamed back, tears mixing with the rain. "Not for me at least, isn't that right? Because what am I but a broken doll, all yours to fix?"

"I didn't say that, come on!"

"How could you?" She said instead. "How could you do this to him? How could you do this to me?" Anger crept inside her tone. "You don't get the right to act as though you're the one who has to put up with what happened. This story wasn't yours to tell!"

She turned to walk away and he panicked. "It's not what I meant! Please." He cast a glance towards the street, before cursing out loud. "Damn it." He stepped out in the rain as well, and caught up with Sara in an instant. "Listen." He stood before her to make her face him. "I'm sorry you had to listen to this, I just meant to make understand that –"

"That what?" She yelled, furious. "That he's a hopeless monster who's too far gone to try? That no one can care about him? That I can't care about him? Who the hell are you to make this sort of decision, who the hell are you to act as though you've never made any mistake? Screw this. Screw you, Michael, who the hell do you think you are?"

For a second they were both silent. "I'm sorry." He ultimately uttered.

"Yeah." She said, still angry. "You're always sorry. I just wish you didn't have so many reasons to be sorry for." She walked past him and inside the house. She was furious, she was soaking wet, and she was cold. She went back to the field, hoping to find Paul there, but he was gone.

She let out an angry sigh.

The other day, when it had just been the two of them, it had felt as though he was getting better, as though she could actually help him. She wanted to help him; wanted to make him see that there wasn't only wrong he could do, even if it's all he knew how. And now, Michael had just brought him back to square one.

She sighed and lowered her eyes.

She wasn't being entirely honest with herself, she knew that. Helping him get better had not been the only thing she'd felt, when they'd been alone, the other day. They'd held. It had been innocent, nothing inappropriate, just shy strokes and the lulling sound of heartbeats. And it'd been nice, to feel his warmth against her. It'd felt safe. It'd felt like home. She understood what he felt for her, she understood it because she could feel it too, like an inexplicable yet unbreakable bond. It was just different for her; it had to be different, because of Michael. But it was real, and it was strong; and it was there. And she knew it. 

...

It was already three in the morning when Sara had changed into dry clothes; she doubted Michael would be asleep, but he at least showed the decency to give her some privacy. Good. She felt exhausted, but her sleeping bag was now being used by some snoring guy, so going back to sleep was not an option. She wanted to look for Paul, but since everyone was sleeping just about everywhere, switching on the lights was off the chart, and she could hardly find him in the dark. She really wished she could have talked to him. Instead she went to the kitchen and made some coffee. Suddenly, she heard the door open carefully, and turned around to see Michael.

He looked so sorry he didn't even have to say the words.

"I don't want to hear what you have to say." She informed.

"I've been a jerk, I'm sorry."

"You've actually been worse than that. You were a selfish jerk." She paused for a second. "You really couldn't stand him being in the picture, could you? No. You just had to do something about it, which is actually funny, because when I couldn't stand him being in the picture, I couldn't do a thing about it."

"We needed him then, Sara." He defended. "We don't need him anymore."

"I did." The words escaped her lips before she could think of stopping them. "I mean…" She shook her head. "He needed me. He needed me to get better, and you've ruined it."

She tried to shake off her nervousness, but her boyfriend looked frozen in a way she'd never seen him before, as though those two simple words had been a burning iron against the back of his brain. "What did you say?"

She swallowed. "Look, I love you." She said, "That'll never change, no matter what you do or say. I just need time. I…"

She really wished he'd say something right at this moment, but he merely watched her coldly. In the end, he spoke, icy and sharp. "So, you want to break up, is that it?"

"No." She was visibly startled at the mere suggestion. "No, I mean – you remember what happened last time we broke up?"

She'd thought a joke would break the ice, but Michael didn't laugh. "I remember." He said. "You were abducted and beaten by a sadistic killer."

She swallowed, and anger made its way back inside of her again. "He didn't beat me."

"Look, I have to be honest with you, Sara. You protect him, you stand up for him and – I don't understand that. I just don't."

"Neither do I." She confessed, without shame. "I don't know why I do it. But for some reason, I need to." Her boyfriend nodded coldly. He was about to walk out before she spoke again. "Wait. I know I said I needed some time, but will you – wait for me?"

Michael said nothing. He didn't know what to say. A week ago, she loathed him. Exactly what had happened for her to stand up for the man who had haunted her nightmares? He just wished things would go back to the way they were. But regardless of how angry he was, he knew he had no right to resent her; he had to be the better man, so he smiled, and it almost became genuine when he saw the expression of relief on her face. "Yeah." He promised. "I'll wait for you." He shrugged before asking. "You need some time, I get that. So – can we still kiss?"

Sara pondered for a second before pecking him on the cheek. Michael smiled; he figured to ask whether they could still share a room would be useless.

"I love you, you know." He said. "I'd be willing to do anything not to lose you, and if you care about Kellerman – that's okay."

"I –"

"I didn't say you did." He interrupted before she could protest. "I'm just saying that, if you did, I'd be okay with it." He kissed her forehead before leaving her alone in the room, and she knew at this moment she'd never loved him more than now. 

...

Sara searched everywhere; the field slash backyard, every room in the house, but Paul remained MIA. It was now eight a.m., and the field was already crowded. She spotted Elena, sitting on a bench.

"Hey." She said, walking towards her.

"Oh, hi." The young girl retorted. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I'm just wondering if you've seen Paul anywhere around. You know," she went on to the girl's confusion, "the guy that you said was staring at me?"

"Oh, _that_ guy. No, I haven't seen him anywhere."

Sara fought to repress a sigh, and the anxiety that was beginning to spread inside of her. The words Michael had spoken a few days ago came back to her in a flash. "_Did you expect him to say goodbye?_"

"What's the matter?" Elena asked.

"Nothing. Would you tell me if you see him? It's starting to worry me."

"Sure."

Sara glanced at the training crowd, and skimmed over the perimeter, searching for him with her eyes. A sensation of cold swamped her system when she only recognized strangers, and she went back upstairs. Desperately searching for some privacy, she locked herself in the bathroom and buried her face in her hands. He couldn't have just left. He wouldn't have, not without saying a word to her. She breathed in deeply, pain jammed her throat, and surprise came over her when she realized she was about to cry. It wasn't because of Paul, she hastily told herself. She'd been through a lot lately, it was normal that her nerves should break loose at some point. It wasn't because of Paul. She had no idea why the thought of him being gone would upset her so much, and doubted she ever would.

Knocks on the door were pounded, and she got a hold of herself. "I'll be out in a minute."

"Sara?"

She recognized Michael's voice. He really was the perfect guy, the man you can only dream will so much as notice you – yes, that's exactly what he was, a dream come true. Exactly how stupid could one be to want more?

"Are you crying, honey?"

"No." She lied.

A second of silence set, then his voice sounded again, softer than milk. "Sweetheart, please open the door."

There was no way she'd let him see her like this while hell was breaking loose inside of her. She probably looked like a mess, too. She breathed in deep, and was surprised to hear frustration in her voice, through the tears. "Why do you have to be so perfect? Just leave." She heard him laugh slightly, through the door.

She sighed before she went to open the door to him–apparently, it's all she was good for–and sat back on the floor miserably.

"Darling, what's wrong?" He asked, concern crowding his voice. "Is it me?"

"No." _It's your fault, but it's not you_; was added in her mind only, despite her will.

"What is it then? What can I do?" He seemed to hesitate shortly. "Is it what happened, when you were abducted?" She was uncertain which time he was referring to. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"It's not that. I just –" She shook her head before she managed. "I think he's gone."

"Kellerman?" Michael didn't exactly know how to feel. He for one was glad to think that the man would be out of their lives, but he'd never be able to wish for something that would hurt Sara. "Well," he said, "at least you can tell yourself that you've helped him, as much as you could."

"That's not it, Michael! Don't you see it? I'm a terrible person."

"Of course not, honey, you're the sweetest woman on earth."

"No!" She persisted stubbornly. "There's something wrong with me. There has to be."

If she were all right, she thought, if she were fine, then she would hate him. Hate would be the appropriate feeling concerning Paul Kellerman. If she were fine, she would be happy to think him gone, she would feel _glad_. She wouldn't feel hollow.

"Sara, baby," Michael lay a gentle hand on her cheek. "Look at me. Nothing's wrong with you, you're just confused; no one could blame you for that."

"You don't understand." She swallowed before she managed the confession. "A few days ago, when we were arguing, you told me Kellerman was gone, and I just – I kept _waiting_ to feel relief, it just wouldn't come. I couldn't place a name on what I felt. I still can't now, but –"

But it was definitely not relief. 

"It's all right, honey." He sat next to her and drew her into his arms. "It's all right."

But how could it be? She loved Michael. She'd loved him from the second she'd set eyes on him. And right now, she needed him to be someone else.

…

The whole day went by without a sign from Paul, and although Sara didn't stop searching, she knew it was vain. He was gone. She could feel it. She couldn't explain how or why; but she could feel it.

Sara was alone in the living room; she'd convinced Michael to go outside and practice with the rest. She'd never needed privacy more than now.

"What are you doing here?"

She gasped at the sound of Buffy's voice. The young woman was looking at her inquisitively, blond lashes falling upon her blue eyes.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"No," Sara said, "I was just – daydreaming."

"Well. You should really come practice with the rest of us. I mean, I'd hate to say 'there's a war coming', but…"

"I'll be there in a sec."

Buffy bit her lip. "You all right?" She didn't wait for an answer and asked, hesitatingly. "The guy from yesterday, the one who was fighting with your boyfriend. I haven't seen him at all today. Is that the reason why –"

"I'm fine."

Buffy nodded. "Okay. Then I'll see you downstairs." She walked away, and left Sara sitting alone on the couch for a second.

She tried to see the bright aspects of things. This was the ideal occasion to move on, she thought, maybe this was even the only way she could heal; maybe in five years, she'd even be able to sit in a goddamned bathtub. She thought she might as well start facing the situation now. Two days ago, alone in that forest, with Paul, it had felt as though the rest of the world had disappeared. It had been special; now it was over. Fine. He was gone. She was with Michael, anyways; she couldn't have it both ways.

She repeated it to herself twice before she went downstairs, searching for anyone she knew.

"Hey."

She turned around to face the young girl. "Elena. Hi."

"So, you found the person you were looking for?"

Sara swallowed. "No. I'd just like to get my mind off of it."

"You want to train?" The girl offered.

"Well, Elena, I thought I was your partner."

Both women turned around to face the man who had spoken. "Oh." Elena uttered, and she looked both ashamed and proud. "This is Damon, he – I came here with him."

"Nice to meet you." Sara said, but the man froze when he saw her.

Damon didn't need a second look to be sure, he would have recognized the tall redhead anywhere; she was the same woman he'd saved from his own brother, back in Mystic Falls. He could recognize her scent.

"Nice to meet you too." He managed. "Elena? Can I talk to you for a sec?" He drew her away without wasting a second.

"What's wrong with you?" His girlfriend said.

"She's the girl Stefan attacked the other night."

"What? No way."

"I got a closer look at her than you did."

Sara only watched the two of them staring at her, unable to hear what they were saying. Before she could wonder what was going on, she felt Michael's hand slide on her shoulder. "Hey," he greeted. "I'm glad you decided to come."

"Yeah. I'm sorry about earlier." She inhaled sharply before pursuing. "You're right. I was just breaking down a little. I'm better now."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"Yeah, well – you know what I said this morning, about needing some time?" She swallowed once before she managed. "I had all the time I needed."

He remained calm, and didn't yet dare look relieved. "Are you certain?"

"Yes." She shrugged, feigning casualness. "Life is short. I won't waste it in the past."

He smiled, and didn't hide his relief any longer. "I'm so glad things are becoming clear to you." He leaned in to kiss her just when his brother's voice sounded behind him.

"Hey man. Sorry, I didn't want to ruin your moment, I just wondered if I could borrow your girlfriend a second. Just to train."

"Wait." Sara frowned. "I thought you didn't want to practice with me."

"I changed my mind."

"Well," she glanced at her boyfriend and smiled. "I was going to train swords with Mike. Can't you just go with Buffy?"

"Hell no!" He shouted. "The woman's a bloody ninja."

Sara couldn't hold back her laughter and Michael smiled. "You mean you got your ass kicked by a girl?"

Lincoln arched a brow. "A girl? I don't know what that thing is Michael, but she ain't a girl. She looks like one, but she's not. So come on, Sara, I need you to restore my dignity."

She sighed. "All right, go get me a sword then." 

He smiled and she did too, only she wondered how long she would need to act before life went back to normal, or whether she'd have to fake smiles all her life and always feel that something was missing.

…

It was past midnight when Sara decided to go to bed; she changed into a pajama short and a baggy sweatshirt. Michael had saved an entire room for them, she knew he'd probably had to beg Buffy to get it, and she appreciated the gesture. Yet she couldn't manage to feel pleased about it. Since it'd be a while before her boyfriend and her obtained privacy again, she knew he'd probably be expecting something, and tonight she'd never least been in the mood for it.

She sighed looking at her reflection in the bathroom's mirror, then heard knocks pounded on the door. "Come in." She said carelessly. 

She saw his reflection in the mirror and gasped. In an instant, she forgot everything she was concerned about seconds ago, she forgot about Michael, who was waiting in the bedroom, and above all she finally forgot that sick feeling she'd carried around all day.

"Cute PJs." He said, for no other than reason than to break the silence.

She was unable to do anything but stare at him, unaware of what she was feeling, seeing him again; not a second later, she realized it was relief.

"I thought you'd left." She uttered.

"I did." He answered.

She shook her head, still startled by his presence although slowly coming back to her senses. "What are you doing here, Paul?"

His mouth opened, but he didn't answer just yet. "I was at the airport," he ultimately said. "And… I couldn't." As though it said it all. He swallowed before pursuing. "I had to see you again, I had to ask –" He interrupted himself shortly. "Sara, I'll leave." He said, and she remained frozen. "I will, I'll get on that plane and you'll never hear from me again. It'll kill me, and I'll think of you every day but I will, I'll leave. If you want me to, I'll –" He paused for a second. "I want to do what's best for you. If my presence is standing in the way of your happiness, I promise I'll be more than willing to trade mine for yours. I will leave, Sara, if you want me to."

She didn't speak a word. She stood there, motionless, unable to think but visibly able to speak, and before she could stop them the words slipped out of her mouth, and she knew when she said them that she was crossing a line. "I don't want you to."


	15. Chapter 15

_'__Oh, that kind of lovin', turns a man into a slave. Oh, that kind of lovin', sends a man right to his grave.'_

_Aerosmith_

…

"Did you sleep well, honey?"

She heard Michael whisper in her ear, and reached for him with her eyes still closed so she could snuggle against him.

"Huh-um." She nodded, still without opening her eyes. She sighed in comfort. Things were probably just about perfect right now, so perfect that the sensation of emptiness she'd carried around yesterday felt like a mere bad memory.

He pressed a light kiss to the space below her ear, and she chuckled when he didn't stop.

"Come on," she tried to reason her boyfriend. "We need to get up."

When he didn't stop still, she stopped fighting him and leant her head backwards to give him better access.

They both jumped when the door suddenly opened wide, and Kellerman entered. "Good morning, sunshine."

"Jesus, Paul, would you knock?" Sara said, pulling the sheet to cover her naked body.

"What the hell?" Michael said, genuinely startled. "I thought you'd left." 

Kellerman grinned. "Sara didn't tell you?" He knew when he said it that the mere question would bring trouble, and if he hadn't known, Sara's increasing blushing would have been enough of a hint. "Well," he went on, I'm sure the both of you will have many things to talk about, now."

"Wait a second," Michael frowned, "you knew he was back last night and you didn't tell me?"

"Yes," Paul said, using a lecturing tone. "That's very wrong, Sara. Poor Michael, for all you know she was picturing me."

"OK." Sara intervened, laying a hand on Michael's shoulder to ensure he wouldn't jump on Kellerman. "Well, Michael: I can explain. Paul, would you just…?"

He should have gotten the message but he remained still, smiling persistently, eyes right into hers. "Well, I'd leave," he explained, referring to their previous conversation, "but you don't want me to."

She let out an exasperated sigh. "God, get out!"

Kellerman smirked challengingly. "Make me."

"I'll make you." Michael said.

"Michael, calm down, okay?" Sara exhaled. "Paul, get out, and don't forget to knock next time."

"Duly noted," Kellerman nodded, serious as can be; but still fully smirking. "And I'm excited to think you're already expecting a next time as well, Sara." He shut the door on his way out, leaving Michael and Sara alone.

The young woman sighed before she turned to face her boyfriend, half-sitting on the bed. "So, there's something you should know."

Michael sighed too, a little bitter. "Let me guess. Kellerman's back."

"Look, I know I should have told you, but come on." She rolled her eyes. "It's not like you gave me much time to argue, you jumping out of your clothes the second I stepped in."

"Well…" He was visibly annoyed and wanted to retort something sharp, but couldn't think of anything. "OK, I might have not given you a lot of time, but you could have said something."

"How?" She defended. "Sorry, you kept kissing me so, yeah, my mouth was a little busy."

"This is ridiculous." Michael said, before getting up and putting on his clothes.

"Where are you going?" Sara asked, using the sad tone that she knew always got Michael to feel guilty.

"Out," he answered coldly. "Before I leave, is there any other unexpected people I should prepare to see?" 

"No." She uttered.

"Good." He said, and. "Stop with that voice."

Then he was gone out the door, and Sara stood immobile, jaw slackened in startle. He knew about the voice? She sighed angrily and got up as well. Damn him. Damn them both. She decided to put on her training outfit right away; she'd be down in the field soon anyway. She went down to the kitchen to get some coffee, and felt her heart tighten when she saw Paul there, almost waiting. Sometimes she swore he knew her habits by heart, and never ran into her by accident.

"Good morning again." He said, handing her a mug, confirming her thought. "I made you some coffee.

She didn't even bother to look at it. 

"Please, don't tell me you're mad." 

He noticed she was ignoring him, but he didn't care; she wanted him to stay. She had said so. He wasn't about to forget that anytime soon, nor to let her forget it.

Ultimately, the young woman gave in with a sigh and finally turned to look at him. "You really need to stop doing that."

"What?" He asked innocently.

"Teasing Michael the way you do. If you would just let him be, then he wouldn't be so reluctant of our – friendship."

He couldn't help but laugh. Friendship? 

"Well," he shrugged and lied. "I'm sorry, I can't help it."

"Well do your best to try." She snapped. "Paul, he's putting on a lot of efforts to even stand having you around, would it kill you to do the same?"

He looked away, suddenly feeling like a sulking kid. "I do try," he said, "every time he's around, I just…" He just felt like cutting the boyfriend into tiny little pieces and throwing him in the Mediterranean Sea so sharks could eat him. "I can't help it." He repeated; maybe it wasn't so much of a lie.

His gaze on her was so intense she felt herself blush. She looked down shyly, and tucked an auburn lock of hair behind her ear. "Try, OK?" She said again, more softly this time. "Do it for me."

He sighed before nodding. He was definitely sulking now.

…

"Would you like to try anything specific?" Paul asked once they got to the field.

Sara didn't have time to answer before Michael walked towards them. "Actually, why don't you leave? Sara and I need to talk."

Kellerman felt the sudden urge to throw him over the wall; he hated that Scofield was always there in the picture, Sara and him would be much better without him, he thought. But he'd made a promise, so he swallowed back his pride, threw a glance towards Sara, then got ready to leave.

He was so surprised to feel her hand squeeze his shoulder that her fingers seemed to electrify his skin. Her hand was gentle but firm, stopping him from leaving – and she didn't remove it, after he went still.

"No." Sara countered. "Actually, Michael, I don't have anything to say to you."

"Uh –" The young man was visibly as surprised as Kellerman. "Well, I do."

"Well, then we could have talked about it this morning," she spoke, calm and serious. "But you left so quickly." 

"I don't understand."

"Yes you do." She said and, to make things clearer than clear. "I'm not at your disposal."

She gripped at Paul's arms and walked towards the wall; both men were equally surprised. 

…

Michael could not believe this. She had chosen Paul instead of him, he had asked her to talk and she had literally chosen to spend time with this idiot instead. He just couldn't believe her. It was because of this morning, he shouldn't have left like that. He shouldn't have picked on the voice. You should _never_ pick on the voice. OK, so he'd slightly overreacted when he'd found out Kellerman was back, but still.

Now he was just sitting on a bench near the in-door, enjoying a very good view of Kellerman teaching Sara a few defenses techniques, at the opposite end of the field. No inappropriate touching, she'd never dare let him, but he was visibly having the time of his life, smug and smirking and – oh. Now she was laughing. He'd made her laugh.

He wanted to run to them and act but he just clenched his teeth and bit on his rage. He was going to get back at her for this.

...

"OK, peace, you win!" Sara shouted, beginning to question her decision about training with Kellerman.

"Oh, is that what you'll say when attacked at war, love?"

She couldn't exactly see him from their current position, but he was smirking; she knew he was smirking. She should have never agreed to this hand-to-hand fight.

After he'd told her to attack, and she really should have known it was a bad idea to attempt attacking an ex-professional-spy, she'd merely tried to kick him, but he'd grabbed her foot skillfully and made her turn around, and now he wouldn't let go and she was trying to find balance on one leg without falling.

"Let go of me, you caveman!" She struggled against his grip but he held her tight.

His smirk enlarged. "That's a nice leg, you know."

"Thank you. May I have it back?"

A second later, her leg gave in and she fell to the ground, and Kellerman's grip unfortunately made him fall on top of her.

Their faces were only inches away, and he could feel her whole body under his. Being so close to her ignited his skin. He wanted to kiss her so badly at that moment he could already feel the sensation of his tongue entering her mouth. He swallowed, and realized his mouth was now watering, as though he were starving and she were a delicious cake.

Sara swallowed also. The crowd had disappeared around them, she could no longer hear the sound of swords clashing, steel meeting steel. After a second, she realized it wasn't a good thing. These sorts of things didn't happen with a friend. She knew that, and she wanted to get up but she couldn't; firstly, because his whole weight and strength was pinning her to the ground, and second, because she'd be utterly unable to break the contact. She caught his insisting eyes on her lips, and suddenly wondered if he was going to kiss her again.

"I'm sorry, fellows, can I help you?" They both her Lincoln speak above them, a brutal wakeup call. 

Sara was uncertain who reacted first, but Paul was immediately up and offering his hand to help her rise. When the were both on their feet, facing Lincoln's reproaching look, she suddenly felt like a teenager being lectured by her dad after being caught with a boy.

"It's not what it looks like." Sara said, immediately. "This is really a misunderstanding, we were just training and we fell."

"And the world seemed too high for either of you to get up?" Neither of them answered, and Lincoln was cold as ice when he went on. "Kellerman, beat it. I need to talk to Sara."

"Like I have to do anything you say –"

"Paul, please."

Kellerman let out an angry sigh but complied.

"Look, Linc –"

"Don't start, Sara." He said. "I don't want to yell at you. I just want to talk some bloody sense into you. What are you doing?"

"This was not –"

"Sara," he interrupted, calm and serious. "What are you doing? Hanging out with him, working out with him? This isn't going to end well, and that's without mentioning what it's doing to Michael. What it's doing to you." He sighed, and it sounded more compassionate than cold now. "Look, Sare, you don't owe the guy anything. Let him go, will you?"

"I know, I'm just –" She didn't mean to get defensive, but now she couldn't stop. "Look, I'm not off boundaries here, all right? I'm Michael's girl. Paul is just a friend."

"Even you can't be naïve enough to think this man wants friendship from you."

Sara really wanted to act offended, but who would she be fooling? He was right. "I just…" She went on. "I have the feeling I could really help him change –"

"So? Who cares whether he changes or not? Some people are just bad seed."

"He isn't." She shot back, oddly cold. "He's not evil, Linc! He spared me!"

"He _spared_ you?" He repeated, half-startled half-ironic. "You mean he decided not to end your life from the purest kindness of his heart, after half-drowning you and scarring you for life? Jeez, Sara, I think he might be the new messiah."

"Shut up." She replied. "I'm tired of being told what to do, all right? I'm a grown woman, I think I can decide who I date and who I'm friends with, I don't really care about your goddamned blessing."

Lincoln just stared at her for a second, and he was calmer–and colder–when he went on. "You're right, Sara. It's your life, do whatever you want with it. But if you lose Michael in the way of whatever it is you're doing here, you won't forgive yourself, and you know it."

He left her standing there, and Sara knew Michael was looking at them from the opposite end of the field. He had no doubt witnessed to the sequence between Paul and her, but when she met his eyes, he didn't look angry. She watched him get up and leave, and felt more alone and colder than ever.

…

Kellerman got back upstairs and sat on the living room couch, though he felt more like smashing his fist into the wall.

He was so close.

When he'd fallen on top of her everything real, including the damned boyfriend, had faded in her mind, he could see it, and if he had kissed her then, she would have let him. _Would have_, thanks to that giant tree guy who had showed up out of nowhere.

"I saw you two down there."

Kellerman sighed at the sound of Michael's voice. He usually loved to torment the boy, but right now he wasn't in the mood for it.

"You don't have to talk." Michael went on, "In fact, why don't you just listen? I love Sara."

Paul stifled a laugh. He knew how _that_ conversation was going down.

"She loves me, too." Michael went on. "If I really have to say it, I've noticed that lately, yes. She's been growing fond of you."

"Thank god for the lucidity." 

"But you know what?" Michael ignored him. "Even if she does, even if she cares about you, even if you feel connected to her, it doesn't matter. It won't matter, in the end. She loves me more. So go ahead, Paul, be as in love with her as you like, for the good it will do you."

Paul grinned. "If that's what you really believed, boy, you wouldn't have tried to chase me yesterday? Is that what it was about, you were certain she loved you most and didn't feel threatened one tiny bit?"

"Threatened?" The young man echoed the word as though it were the first time he heard it. "That's ridiculous."

It was Paul's turn to ignore him. "You know, it's actually a funny thing." He paused for a second. "You see, the same day you asked me to leave – she asked me to stay."

Michael felt his whole body tense.

Paul smiled, both cruel and calm, and went on. "Last night, I told her I'd leave if she asked me to. She asked me not to. After that, she went back to your bedroom and slept with you. Hum. I wonder what she was thinking of then, don't you?"

Kellerman could see he'd obtained the expected reaction from Michael. The young man inhaled inaudibly, keeping a straight face. "OK." He conceded. "Maybe she cares about you. But as you've pointed out, I'm still the one she goes to bed with, aren't I? I'm the one she's faithful to. I'm the one she chose. So you have fun loving her, Kellerman, you love her with all you've got, but we both know I have something she'll never grant you."

"What?"

"Her trust."

Kellerman's teeth clenched. Michael might as well have set fire to his eyes. He got up to face the young man.

"Oh, go ahead." He said to Kellerman. "Punch me, just give me a reason."

"No, don't." 

Kellerman had to dig his nails into his own palms to hold back his fist. He had recognized her voice, and knew who was standing behind him.

Michael turned around as well, facing his girlfriend. "We need to talk, Sara."

Kellerman hated to hear him speak that name.

"You're right." The young woman said. "But first, both of you need to end this, _right_ now. I mean it. You can't even have a conversation without it coming to blows."

"Sara," Michael persisted, "we need to talk, tell him to leave."

"I'm not his boss, Michael, he does whatever the hell he likes."

"What do you want me to say? He listens to you."

"Hum… I'm actually right here, so 'he' can hear you guys speaking."

"Shut up, Kellerman." Michael spat.

"Oh, you know what?" Sara snapped. "Maybe I'll just leave you two! Maybe one day I'll put both of you on a ring and eat popcorn while you kill each other."

Kellerman shrugged. "Fine by me, anytime."

"Good." Sara shouted. "Then have a real nice time hating each other, I wish the two of you a very happy life."

She ran upstairs; all bedrooms were unoccupied, since everyone was outside at this hour, so she locked herself in the first room she came across. They wanted to beat each other up? Fine. They wanted to kill each other? _Great_. She wondered whether she even had a relationship with either of them, or if they were the one who were in it for life. Either way, she wouldn't be standing there in the crowd like a docile little woman, as a reward for the winner to claim.

She heard knocks being pounded on the door. In the state she was in, she would have gladly told the person to go to hell, but she ultimately decided not to lower to their immature level. "Who is it?" She asked sharply.

"It's me." She recognized Paul's voice. "Could you let me in?"

"Where's Michael?" She retorted, oddly without humor. The mere question triggered rage inside of him, she could almost hear it. "Did you kill him yet?" She thought that at least ought to flatter his ego.

"He's downstairs. Open the door, Sara."

"No. Leave."

A short silence set in. "I thought you didn't want me to."

He was neither bragging or joking, like he was throughout the day when he'd referred to it. Maybe he was just trying to make her smile. She realized too late that he had succeeded, and she forced herself to look impassive before she went to open the door.

They looked at each other silently for a while.

"I'm sorry." He said.

She knew he meant it.

"I don't know what to do, Paul." She simply said. "I just don't anymore."

"I know." Silence set again. "Are you going to let me in?"

She sighed and sat on the bed leaving the door open; he closed it on his way in and went to sit on the bed next to her. Her proximity brought chills to creep down his spine, but it wasn't a sensation he was unused to anymore.

They were silent again for a moment.

Ultimately, she sighed. "Can't I just – be with Michael, and be friends with you?" She ended up saying. "Why do you have to hate each other?"

"Don't be naïve, Sara." He answered. "You know perfectly why we hate each other."

She lowered her eyes, and tried to act as though the last part of his sentence didn't make her uncomfortable. She knew he was merely being honest, and she preferred honestly, always; even though there were topics she would rather not get into.

"You could try harder." She said, without really thinking. "Both of you, you could try –"

"You know there won't be an easy way out of this, Sara, no matter what we do."

She swallowed. "Well." She finally looked him in the eyes. "Then maybe if we were just entirely honest to each other… would it help?"

Kellerman grinned at her shyness. It was a smile Sara couldn't recognize, one she had only seen on very rare occasions; there was no mockery or smugness about it, no superiority – it was just joy, and a bit of sadness, too. It was honest.

"All right." Paul said, that same sad smile on his lips. "Would you like to hear one truth?"

She didn't answer, her eyes fixed on his. 

Kellerman paused for a second before he went on. "I have the feeling to have done things in my life too early... and others too late."

Sara remained frozen; maybe this was a bad idea. How could she be honest with him when she wasn't even certain she could be honest with herself?

"Your turn." Kellerman said. "Tell me one truth."

She tried to smile as well. "What kind of truth?"

"Any truth."

"All right." She said, and breathed in sharply. If she didn't have answers to her own questions, maybe he would. "I feel like…" She carefully avoided to look him in the eyes. "When you left, yesterday, when I thought you were gone – things felt pointless, somehow. I needed to see you, more than anything, as though if I didn't, I would die."

She could feel his stare on her, but couldn't bring herself to look at him. Saying the truth oddly felt like thinking out loud.

"Yesterday," she went on, "when I thought you were gone, I felt hysterical. As if I had walked inside a room with no air, and the door had been closed shut." She pressed her lips together tightly and closed her eyes. "I can't explain what I feel when you're here, Paul, but when you're not – I can't breathe."

She opened her eyes, and he caught them and held her gaze before she could flee from him.

"Yesterday, when I realized you were gone, it felt like losing my mind." 

Kellerman could feel something sharp and burning, an awful lot close to tears, form behind his lids. He didn't remember wanting to cry before he met Sara Tancredi, especially not from emotion. Maybe he was losing his mind as well, just a bit. He hadn't been himself since he'd met her. Or on the contrary, for the first time in his life, maybe he had.

"Michael hates you." She informed. "So does Lincoln. I think I should, too. But, for some reason…" She paused for a second, still looking at him, before she finished. "I need you."

He laid a hand on her cheek before he could even think of stopping it, as though to wipe an invisible tear. If the gesture had felt intrusive he would have removed it, but he'd never been more certain something was right than right now.

"In the field," she spoke, her eyes dived into his. "Would you have kissed me if Lincoln hadn't shown up?"

He was silent for a moment. "Would you have stopped me if I had?"

His hand on her cheek slowly snaked around her neck, rubbing softly as she had done with him, back in that motel room, and then, he just brought her face to his. Their lips met before she could stop it, and when they did she couldn't stop it. She opened her mouth to let him in, whilst obliviously feeling the hand that was snaked around her neck wander in her hair. She grabbed his shirt to bring him closer to her, she needed to catch her breath but she couldn't break their kiss, neither of them needed oxygen more than they needed each other at this instant, and she wrapped her other hand around his neck to bring him even closer. She was totally oblivious to the fact that it was wrong, because it felt right. It felt as though she was made for this, _born_ for this.

Kissing him felt like destiny.

Both of his hands were now on her cheeks, his fingers on the base of her neck, and right now he realized that this was the only rush he could never live without; the thrill his job had always brought him was nothing like this, this felt vital, it felt like founding shelter after being drifted in a storm for weeks. And he knew he could never live without her again; he wondered if she realized that there was no going back for him after that, he couldn't take any more sleepless nights, wide awake in his bed, thinking of how her absence next to him felt like more than he could stand.

Sara let her fingers wander in his thick hair; she knew she should stop to breathe, but air wasn't a vital need anymore, this was; the only still aware part of her brain told her that things would never be the same again after this, before focusing on the intense sensation the kiss brought; she could feel it, everywhere. She felt warm, she felt safe. She felt – whole.

She wondered if he would have ever stopped kissing her if the door hadn't opened wide. She pulled away, one hand pressed to her mouth, her eyes fixed on the man who had just opened the door, and it suddenly felt as though air had been taken from the room.

She was right earlier; she could see it in his eyes. Things would never be the same again.


	16. Chapter 16

'_Oh my love, I just want to make you mine.'_

_Niki Haris_

Sara held her hand pressed against her mouth. She couldn't believe what had happened. She couldn't believe what was happening right now.

He was there, staring at her, without casting a single glance in Kellerman's direction, no; his eyes were fixed on her. She would have loved to be able to speak, if only to say this wasn't what it looked like. Which it was. She remained speechless, incapable of uttering a single word.

She saw his hand tense around the doorknob, holding it so tight it looked as though he might break it.

"God." She finally managed, her breath caught in her throat. "Lincoln, this isn't what you think–" 

"Isn't it?" He arched a brow, sounding surprisingly less angry than she would have thought. "You mean, I didn't just walk in on my brother's girlfriend with another man's tongue in her mouth?" He let out a joyless laugh, so mirthless she felt tears spring behind her lids. 

He turned away and she instantly stood up and went after him, leaving Paul alone in the room. "Linc, please!" She caught up with him in the corridor. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going where you think I'm going, Sara. I'm going to go find my brother."

"Wait." She reached out for his arm in attempt to bring him to look at her.

He pulled away almost violently. "I told you this was not going to end well." He said. "Hell, Sara. Why didn't you listen to me? We were getting to be sort of friends, right? Last I heard, it's what you called Kellerman, too. Then I find you sneaking in a bedroom with him and making out? Just how far would you have gone if I hadn't interrupted?"

"That's not what happened." She swore. "I don't – I know I should have stopped it, I wasn't thinking straight."

He went on, more seriously. "You can't ask me to hide this from Michael." He could see the panic in her eyes, the distress; he knew she was in over her head, still he couldn't lie to Mike; not after everything he'd done. Even if the truth would hurt him. It'd hurt him like hell. "Look," Lincoln ultimately said. "I'll give you one day, and you've got three options. Either you tell him, either I tell him, or…"

"Or what?" 

He sighed. "You end this whole thing with Kellerman, right now. I want to see no fireworks, no affinities, or deep eye-contacts. You cut this whole thing off and you stop trying to be his friend, because 'friends' is simply not going to do it. I think you know that. It's up to you, Sare." He paused and exhaled. "Now as your friend, I recommend you cut the bridges with him. He's no good for you, Sara. I think you've known that for a while."

She swallowed with difficulty, and vaguely nodded to demonstrate her answer. She didn't want to talk, from fear her voice would betray her. 

"One day," Lincoln reminded, before he walked away.

A heavy breath escaped the young woman, as soon as he left his sight. She couldn't believe what she had allowed to happen. She hadn't just let Paul kiss her. She'd kissed him back. And it had been good; that was the worst part. With Paul, all it took was a slight touch for her to feel chills everywhere, and that kiss had just been... 

She shook her head.

She could never allow it to happen again, she knew it, and there was no way she could allow this kind of confusion once more. She used to think she could get to him, but it was nothing compared to how he could get to her; and it was dangerous, she knew it. Lincoln was right, she should clear things up with him, a clean break, a new start, that's what she needed. No more confusion, no more blindness.

Then, for the first time since Paul had gotten inside of her room earlier, she thought of Michael. She was astonished at how selfish she had been, and wondered how she could have gone through with that kiss – it would destroy him, if he knew. She needed to fix this, she needed to think clearly; which was impossible when the taste of Kellerman in her mouth was all she could focus on. 

…

Paul hadn't moved from his sitting position, on the bed. He could still feel the ghost of the sensations she had brought inside his mouth, and the taste of her on his tongue. He thought this was a rather unrivaled sensation. He brushed his lips with his fingertips, a slight smile on his mouth; he knew this had been his first real kiss with Sara. The last time, she had kicked him too quickly for him to truly focus on enjoying it. His smile widened when he thought about it; she did have quite a temper, he'd give her that. He let himself fall back on the bed, still smiling. She was going to panic, of course she was, and do the whole 'this was a mistake' routine, but he didn't care much about that, because it wasn't one; and he knew it had been real for her as well. She could run and hide all she wanted, she wouldn't be able to escape her feelings forever. He hadn't.

He heard a few shy knocks on the door, and knew it was her standing on the other side of the frame. He sat up straight, and told her to come in. 

When she entered, she saw the same sincere smile she had seen on his lips, a moment earlier, before everything went out of control. Although, he couldn't quite stop it from muting into a smirk when he saw the ashamed look on her face, and the color in her cheeks.

"Hi." She said, probably uncertain of what she should start with. 

"Hi." He echoed, and laughed a little at her silence. "You should really try to relax a bit, Sara. Why don't you sit down?"

"Sure – no!" She corrected herself vehemently, at the remembrance of what had happened last time she was sitting on that bed. "Look, Paul…"

Oblivious, he wondered if he'd ever stop shivering when she spoke his name; did Scofield tremble when she spoke his? Could she make him feel chills, everywhere inside, just with a word? 

"I am – beyond sorry, for letting things go as far as they have. I hope you understand that it was a mistake," he smiled at this, but she didn't get why, "and it can never happen again. I honestly don't know what I was thinking –"

He got up to meet her when he realized she was genuinely distraught, but she shied away. In any state of mind, desperate with love or despaired with tears, Sara Tancredi was a careful woman.

"I'm sorry, Paul," she said, and seemed to mean it as much as one can. "I'm afraid we can't be friends anymore."

"Why not?" He challenged, calmer than she would have thought.

"Because I'm not myself with you." She answered, and rephrased a second later. "I don't trust myself around you.

"I know you're scared, Sara."

"That's not what it's about." She said, and lowered her eyes – for some reason, she thought she couldn't have said this while looking at him in the eye. "Whatever there was between us, it needs to stop." She let a short silence set in order for him to react, but he said nothing. "I can't lose Michael." She added, all the needed justification.

He sighed. "All right." The words surprised her, as well as their softness. "Look at me, Sara." He asked and she obeyed, thinking she owed him that. "I won't tell your boyfriend what happened. I confess, it'll be hard not to tease him, but I'll behave, if that is what you wish."

Sara was slightly surprised to note how well he was taking this; maybe this was what was best for them both. "Listen," she started, "when we kissed… I don't want you to think it didn't mean anything to me. This being said, I was caught in the moment, and – it shouldn't have happened."

He nodded. "Are you done talking now?" He asked, a hint too seriously.

"Yes," Sara said, not without suspicion.

"Good. So, you would say that this is my turn now?"

She assessed him silently, and only answered because her reply was expected. "Yes." She said cautiously.

"Well, here it goes. I know you expect me to be heartbroken at any time now, and I should probably even get watery eyes while you break up with me, even though we're not even dating. I think you probably expect me to follow the phrase 'if you love her, let her go'."

He paused to chuckle lightly, under Sara's startled eyes.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, love, but I've got news for you, I'm not going to let you break my heart. I'm not going to cry, I'm not going to let you go either; maybe it'd make things easier for the both of us, but I'm not noble, and I don't want easy. I want you. So, I'm not going to lose you to the good guy and tell myself it's for the best, what I will do, is give it to you straight. If you think for a second I won't fight for you in any way I can, you've underestimated me. I've only had a taste, that's not nearly enough, and it's not just attraction, it's not just desire, I want you for the rest of my life. I won't stop until I know I've tried everything."

He grinned, and tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. She was too startled to slap his hand away. "So you tell your Scofield I've got a message for him. You tell him: war on."

... 

Sara was still in the room Paul had left her in, wearing the same shocked expression. She could not believe he had reacted like this, and she could not believe she had genuinely believed he would get teary, and the worst of it was, she had prepared that speech! She sighed, frustrated, and buried her face in her hands. She tried to think of anything but the kiss, and how angry she was, and how good it had felt – the kissing part, not the anger.

She tried to remember quitting morphine. Stupid or not, it seemed to help. If she could quit a drug her body had gotten accustomed to needing, then surely she could quit a dangerously sexy ex-spy who, for god knew what reason, had decided he wanted her. 

Knocks were pounded on the door, and she lifted her face from her hands. "Come in." She said, and saw Elena enter the room.

"Hey." The girl said, tilting her head to the side, long brown hair following. "Everyone is outside in the field, what are you doing here?"

"Well…" Sara was hoping she wouldn't have to finish that sentence, and Elena got the hint and pursued.

"Anyway, I meant to apologize for taking off yesterday, while we were talking. I'm aware Damon must have seemed awfully rude –"

"Don't worry about it." Sara interrupted, careful to sound polite.

"Anyway," Elena said again after a moment of silence, "Buffy ran into me and said to say she wanted to have a word with you."

"Oh. Well, do you know where she is now?"

"Downstairs, I think." 

Sara met Buffy in the living room, as her young friend went back to the backyard. 

"Hey," Sara said to Buffy, "is something wrong?" 

The young woman shook her head. "Not at all, I just wanted to talk about your job."

"My job?" Sara frowned.

"You haven't told me you're a doctor."

"Oh. Well, I'm not anymore, actually –"

"Don't bother to make something up, OK? I watch the news. Look," she went on at Sara's icy silence, "if I were interesting in becoming rich and turning in your boyfriends to the police, you'd have a right to be worried, but they're more valuable to me when they're not in prison."

Sara relaxed a little. She wondered whether a 'thank you' was in order, but Buffy went on before she could make up her mind. "That's not even what I wanted to talk to you about." She sat on the couch, and waited for the young woman to sit next to her. Then she blurted out of the blues. "The battle will take place at Sunnydale High."

Sara frowned after an initial moment of silent shock. "In a school?"

"Underground. It's actually where the hell mouth is, if you must know, and that place wasn't actually any safer when it still functioned as a school. Trust me, I should know. Anyway, it's a literal monster nest, there are more of them than there are of us, but still if they feel threatened, they might try to escape. Since a major part of them are vampires, we'll fight at sunlight, and I'll send a few troupes to take out the demons who do manage to come out. I'll have a few patrols in the staircases and in the hallways, but what matters most to me right now, is you're the only doctor we have. So, I guess this is my way of saying, you're not going to do much fighting after all."

"You mean – I'll stay somewhere safe while everyone is out there risking their lives?"

"_Underground_ risking their lives." She corrected. "And safe isn't the word I'd use. I'll need you in the school infirmary, with a few more people to help in case there's any trouble. That's the best way to deal with things if we want to keep our team alive."

Sara remained mute for a while. Back when she'd quit morphine, before Brad Bellick found a job for her at Fox River Penitentiary, she'd thought of being a doctor in the army. It was a change from her old job, and it was another way to help people – in the end, helping convicts had been the alternative.

Well, she could hardly deny that her medical skills went higher than her fighting skills. This made her think of a question. "Does this mean I should stop training?"

"Nice try, but no. It's unlikely that any vampires will make their way to the infirmary, but you still ought to know how to defend if that happens."

"OK, well." Sara said, uncertain how to cut short this conversation. "I guess I should go train then." 

"Just one more thing."

Sara froze, after arising from the couch.

"How did you deal with that other problem?" Buffy asked. "The two men I caught _arguing_, a few days back?" 

"Oh. Well…" Sara blushed. "Yes, that's dealt with."

"Good. Well, you should go then, I don't want to keep you."

Sara smiled politely and made her way downstairs. She immediately started searching for Michael when she got to the field; they needed to have a talk, especially given how their last conversation had ended. Especially given she had let Paul kiss her. 

She sighed with frustration. Did she really have to think about _that_?

"Sara?"

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned around, relieved. "Michael, I was just looking for you –"

"No, let me start, please." He cupped her face in his hands. "Sara, I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am."

She closed her eyes, mortified. "Don't."

"You were right, all I did was lie and cheat, and you've never given me a single reason to doubt you." He shook his head, his voice softer than an angel's. "I don't have to trust him, Sara, I just have to trust you. And I do."

He brought down his hands softly to hold hers, and pressed a kiss to it. "I never meant for things to be this complicated, but even though I'll never like Kellerman or even get why you like him, I will respect that you do. I don't want to lose you, and I want you to know you'll always come first. I just want to know I come first, too."

Sara could feel the guilt take over her, as crushing as an avalanche.

"What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, honey, you don't have to be. I'm the one who lied, I'm the one who planned." 

Sara said nothing, and lowered her eyes. "You do come first." She informed, instead of what needed to be said.

He smiled, and stroked a gentle hand over her cheek. "So you're still mine?" 

And as he said it, she could hear herself say it so clearly, from the past. Back then, everything was complicated, but much simpler at the same time. There was Michael, there was Kellerman, just as there was love and hate, and without warning, the hate had turned into love, and the words 'I'm yours' had ceased to be easy. It was as though she were two different persons who couldn't collide. She was the woman she had always been since she had fallen in love with Michael Scofield, and she was the woman who had chosen to stay with a dangerous criminal, in the woods, after he had tried to kill her, and then let her go. If he could let her go now.

Michael's eyes darkened, and she realized she hadn't answered his question. "I'm yours." She replied naturally.

...

"Well, I'm relieved to know you won't be on the battlefield." Michael said, and Sara let out a sigh.

"I'm not. I mean, I'm glad I can help at all, but I'm going to be worried sick to be at the safest place there is to be, why the three of you are out there."

"Underground."

"Whatever."

They were sitting on one of the many benches, in the field; swords clashing and arrows being drawn was an oddly quieting background. 

"I'll be fine," Michael promised more seriously, and stroked a hand over her cheek, which seemed to increase the intimacy of the moment.

"Shouldn't at least one of you be training?" The noise came from straight ahead, and Sara looked at the ground not to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry, I hate to interrupt."

"Then don't." Michael said dryly, visibly without noticing that Sara's cheeks were on fire. If it had been any other time, he would have loved to pick a fight and have an excuse to blow Kellerman's nose, but he was not going to break a promise less than an hour after he'd made it. 

"Fine." The young man sighed, and looked at Kellerman. "What do you want?"

"Well, I'm looking at _that_." He said before chuckling. "Ah, I'm only kidding. I really just wanted to point out that it's not so smart to sit and talk when there's a _war on_," he said the two words cockily, "and I just couldn't help seeing you back there, while I was training, and so I wondered if you'd care to join me."

"We're going to pass, thanks." Michael spoke coldly.

Kellerman chuckled, his eyes still set on the woman who wasn't looking at him. "I wasn't actually asking you." He said. "I just noticed how good Sara had gotten, after I helped her with that crossbow, and thought maybe I'd do some more teaching." He went on, addressing her directly. "If you're interested, Sara, I'd love to introduce you to some of my other passions."

"Are you serious?" Michael said, cold and without humor. "I think she told you no like thirty times, so why don't you take a hint?"

"Well, she hasn't told the whole story." Kellerman said, grinning. "Have you, Sara?"

Then for the first time since he'd joined them, she looked up to meet his eyes, and there was a surprising strength in her gaze. "I'm going to go stretch my legs." She said for an answer, and got up dryly.

"Well, would you fancy company?"

"I don't think she would fancy yours." Michael intervened, getting up as well to face Kellerman. "So why don't you leave her the hell alone?"

Paul gritted his teeth to hold back his anger. He knew this was the way Sara would react, after the kiss, and although he'd meant what he said about not giving up, it didn't stop the rage from heating up his blood to a boiling level. It didn't make it any easier to watch her leave with Scofield.

As they both walked away, Sara wondered if she could be walking any faster, and surely her boyfriend had started noticing; she wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. She could feel Kellerman's gaze on her, bringing her to the highest stage of uncomfortable.

"Jeez, Sara, do you mind waiting up for me a bit?" Michael asked once they reached the house.

"Sorry, of course." She let out a nervous laugh. "I'm so sorry about Paul."

"Forget it." He could tell something was wrong with her, but didn't dare ask what. He doubted he would get an honest answer.

"Anyway," he said to change subject, "I forgot to tell you, I've got some good news. Since you are the only doctor here, and you're going to be more helpful than you think, Buffy said she'd try to save a bedroom for you."

The young woman did her best to put enthusiasm into her tone. "Terrific."

Although it was probably a demonstration of her terrible liar skills, because a second later Michael was sighing, not fooled the slightest. "Sara, is everything all right?" There was so much concern in his voice, for a second she wanted to tell him nothing but how much she loved him.

Instead she shook her head with feigned casualness. "Everything's fine."

He sighed again. "Well, okay. Next time though, just at least tell me you don't want to talk about it, sweetie. Try to remember how bad a liar you are."

It was seven p.m., translation: it was the time when everybody left the field and went upstairs to get something to eat. Sara searched for Michael in the crowded living room, where everyone was sitting; on the couches; on the floor. Drinks and pizzas were the main course, and this was starting to remind the young woman of those sorts of parties she was always forbidden to go to.

"I saved you an orange soda."

Kellerman's voice sounded behind her, and she turned around reflexively. He was smirking, of course, why shouldn't he be? She had given him enough of a reason to smirk for the rest of his life. But she wouldn't accept his drink, nor address a word to him; not until he gave up this plan of his. Men like Paul Kellerman always have a plan.

"What?" He feigned being hurt. "You don't want my soda?"

"No, you idiot, I don't want your soda!" 

"Easy, tiger. You know, you really ought to be nicer to me, just as I am to you. This afternoon would have been the perfect occasion to tell your Romeo about our little kissing session, but did I seize it? No." He was careful to remain serious until he finished, before he allowed himself a smile, slightly less innocent than the perennial smirk. "So, does that not count for anything?"

Of course, Sara should have noticed he was teasing her, but even he had to know she couldn't notice anything at all, past the panic he had stirred inside her by merely mentioning Michael.

"You swore you wouldn't tell him." She struggled to remain calm.

"And I won't." He said quietly. He used to blackmail people for a living, and this didn't quite feel out of his reach. "Now, why don't you just sit with me?"

She remained puzzled for a second, but he spotted the hesitation right away. "Hum –" She shook her head. "I have to find Mike –"

"Come on, Sara. This isn't out of line, or now is sitting with someone considered a sin, or an act of high treason? Would you just not worry about anything for five seconds?"

"No! You're right Paul, I'm always worried, but just in case you forgot, there are always reasons why I should be!"

"Well, there's nothing we can do about the war now, is it?" He put honey into his words. "Humor me, just sit with me a moment."

Sara exhaled, and cast one last look towards the crowd. Michael was nowhere to be found, and she figured he was probably still ignoring her. When she looked back at Kellerman, he was the living incarnation of innocence.

"Don't friends sit with friends?"

She sighed and caved in, after giving him a quick appraising look, as if to decipher his intentions. They sat down on the floor, leant against a wall. She took the soda he was offering her, but didn't get to finish the sip before Paul's arm wrapped around her shoulders.

She gave him an outraged look. "You are kidding me." He hadn't even tried to be subtle about it; oh, and now he was looking at her as though she was out of line.

"What?" He defended. "Friends do that."

She rolled her eyes and abandoned both her drink and Kellerman on the floor.

"Come on, Sara, don't be a baby."

She was going to come up with a snappy reply for this, unfortunately she turned around too quickly and fell forwards; fortunately, the fall wasn't painful, mostly because Kellerman broke most of it, and it wasn't until the thought kicked in that Sara realized the downsides of this.

"Well…" Paul's mouth broke into a smirk. "I wasn't asking for so much."

She rolled off him and immediately walked away, ignoring his voice, calling her back. She ran to the corridor, furious, with every intention to go back upstairs and find some privacy, but she was so blinded she literally ran into Lincoln. This actually hurt more than the fall. It was like walking into a wall.

She took a step backwards, feeling a little dizzy.

"You OK, Sare?" He shook his head, and went on before he could answer. "Look, I've been meaning to talk to you about – well, you know. I gave you one day to come up with what you wanted to do, so… what do you want to do?"

Sara looked down. "Well, this morning I told Paul our friendship was over, if that answers your question."

Lincoln exhaled, but looked relieved. "I was hoping that's what you'd say. Not just because I don't want to see my baby brother get hurt, but because I don't want you to get hurt, either. I think Kellerman's the sort of guy that would have hurt you, in the end."

She nodded, and tried to make it look as though his words got her. "That's probably right. Have you seen Michael anywhere?"

Lincoln smiled. "Actually, he's in the room Buffy let you have."

"Oh. Where exactly?"

This though seemed to make Lincoln a bit awkward. "The, hum… the room you were in this morning, actually."

The young woman swallowed. "I'll find my way." She said, walking upstairs before he had the chance to add anything. 

When she got there, she briefly knocked on the door before entering. She found Michael lying on the bed, still fully dressed; he hadn't even removed his shoes. "Hey." He said, sitting back up. She was relieved to note he didn't seem angry. "You intend to stay at the door all night?" He joked.

She smiled shyly before stepping in, closing the door behind her. She sat on the edge of the mattress, next to him. "I've been looking for you." She said.

"I know, sorry. I've been with Buffy most of the day."

Sara nodded without a word. The mere mention caused a reflexive jealousy to course through her, and she momentarily wondered if she'd ever have a right to be jealous again.

She tried to chase these thoughts away. 

"She's pretty nice." Sara observed innocently.

"Yeah," Michael agreed, "I've got a lot of respect for her. It's not easy to know the people you care about could get hurt, just because they chose to stay with you. It's not something I could bear."

He leant in to kiss her, and when their lips met, Sara realized that whether or not Michael knew about Kellerman, things wouldn't be the same as they were before that morning. Not ever. Because she could only think of how different he was from Kellerman, and thoughts lingered on this other kiss… the one that wasn't taking place, right now.

Michael's mouth was still over hers, searching for an entry, and he seemed startled she hadn't let him in yet.

She pulled away before he could react. "I can't do this."

"Why, what's the matter?"

Sara took a deep breath. "Paul kissed me this morning, and I let him."


	17. Chapter 17

_'__I ran away in floods of shame. I'll never tell how close I came.'_

_Mumfords and Sons_

Sara wasn't certain she'd made the right call. She wasn't certain she could handle the consequences of what had just happened, of what she had just said; what she did know was, it was the right thing to do.

Michael took a step backwards, as if to awake himself from a particularly unpleasant dream. "Wait, you did what?"

She first thought he was taking this pretty well, because of the absence of anger in his voice – but then she spotted disbelief, and disgust. She swallowed. "I am so sorry."

Michael looked away, maybe because he didn't want her to see him hurt; maybe because he was too disgusted to even look at her.

"The second it happened, I told him it was over." She added, hoping she'd get him to look at her. "I told him our friendship was done, that I couldn't lose you –"

"Really?" Her boyfriend did look back at her then, but with a look in his eyes that she could not recognize. "Am I just supposed to jump in your arms because you broke things off with your other boyfriend?"

"Of course not, you know that's not what it is." She didn't manage to make her voice free from pain. "Whatever was there between Paul and I is over, anyway."

"Oh, is it? Because it sure didn't look like he'd gotten the message, earlier in the field, this afternoon. What he said?" He went on at Sara's silence. "That you hadn't told the whole story?" He shook his head. "I can't believe I let that bastard off without a word, that I stayed quietly in my proper place when you two had sneaked out behind my back."

"Michael, wait!" Sara shouted when he headed for the door. "Please, it was just one kiss."

"No it wasn't!" He yelled back, turning back to her, and he seemed so angry she took a step backwards. "It wasn't just a kiss, I could have forgiven that." He shook his head, and swallowed painfully – as though he simply couldn't recognize her anymore. "But you have feelings for him." He said, audible pain in his voice. "I'm not sure I can handle that."

He slammed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the room. She leaned against the opposite wall, feeling dizzy, and let herself fall to the ground, hugging her knees. She would have run after him, if her legs hadn't suddenly felt so weak; instead, she hoped he would come back. He would. He had to.

She sat there for hours, without moving an inch. The night had fallen a while ago, but she hadn't bothered to switch on the light. She felt cold, and miserable, but she refused to move until Michael's return. If she did move, the hours she had already spent waiting would feel like wasted time. But when he didn't return, the dried tears on her cheeks were replaced by some fresh ones. A wave of sorrow came over her, which then turned into anger, and resent.

She was aware Michael resented her right now, too; she was aware she was the one who had made a mistake, but still she thought above all she had been through enough in his sake for it to matter in the balance; and now, she was also aware that nothing she did would ever be enough for Michael Scofield.

She had given up her job; she had given up her _life_. He had asked her to leave that door open for him, and she had, he had asked her to meet him in Gila and although he had already lied to her, although she should have known better by then, she had. She had suffered for him. A moral, and physical pain; she had endured everything that can be named in the name of his freedom, and his brother's life. She had been kidnapped twice, nearly raped, and still she was not allowed to make a mistake – he was allowed to lie. He was allowed to learn everything there was to learn about her, in order to act as though they had much in common; he could start riots, save her life, act as though she owed him, be married and break her heart as much as she could take it, and she _had_. But he couldn't take one mistake from her.

This wall and her sitting position seemed like an ideal place to think, and for a while she wondered if he had forgotten all of this, or if he simply thought he didn't have to remember it, because it was in the past.

Did he really think that? She was no longer facing death, her brain washed over by the overdose, but did he think it had ceased to matter, because it had ceased to exist? Did he think that since she was no longer handcuffed, alone in a lodge with Theodore Bagwell, she had forgotten how dreadful his touch felt? Did they both think that? That since she was no longer strapped to a kitchen chair, facing ugly flamingos on the wallpaper of a motel room, she could no longer hear the sound of those sharpening blades?

She had not forgotten. And yet these were two men she could not live without. They were the two men who had hurt her the most. Why did she trust a liar? Why did she love a man she should hate? Why did she choose to stay when she should run? And how come, every time there was a choice to make, she always seemed to choose wrong?

She let out a sigh. Both of these men might be unforgivable, she was the one who had forgiven them. She could not blame them any more than herself.

The door suddenly opened, and the lights were switched on. "Michael?" Sara called, and a burst of hope came over her.

She saw the pain in his eyes at her expectation; he would like to be the only man she needed. "Come on." Kellerman said, seeing how miserable she looked. "Get up, Sara." He extended his hand, but she didn't move an inch. He switched tactics and asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm waiting for Michael." She said, oddly both strong and on the verge of tears again. "Just go."

"Oh?" He ignored the last part of her sentence. "And how long have you been waiting for him?"

"Just go, Paul."

"Certainly not. I care about you far too much to leave you in this state."

"And what are you implying by that, exactly?" Anger crept into her tone, and he remained wary.

"Nothing." He lied. He was angry as well now, but not at her; he was actually furious at her idiotic boyfriend, for leaving her on her own for god knew how long. Did he not know that, should he leave her alone long enough, another man would gladly take his place?

Kellerman tried to sit at her side, but she stopped him firmly. "I mean it, Paul, get out of here. Michael is only going to hate me more if he finds you here."

"Michael isn't coming, sweetheart, and I'll never let him hate you."

"You understand nothing." She shook her head. "I told him Paul. I told him, and now he hates me, I saw it in his eyes."

Kellerman looked down. "You didn't have to tell him, Sara, you know I never would have."

"That's not the point. He deserved to know the truth."

He saw a shiver come over her body, and was taken with a strong urge to hold her in his arms. The sight of her like this seemed to split his chest in half. "Come here." He spoke without being able to stop himself, and slowly he sat next to her, regardless of her protests, and pulled her into an embrace.

She resisted at first, but he was holding her both so tight and so tenderly that any form of resistance seemed vain. Maybe she simply didn't have the strength to resist anymore. Maybe she'd stopped having that strength a long time ago. And as he held her, he chased away the cold that had slowly settled inside of her, as the hours stretched on. His embrace slightly loosened when she stopped fighting him, after she had realized all there was to do was bury her face in his neck, and cry silently.

He was aware she was at his mercy one more time. If he were to ask anything of her right now, he doubted she would have the strength to resist him or to resist for long; he could kiss her again. She would be crying, and miserable, but she would let him; perhaps, if he had had this occasion before the woods, when she still hated him, he would have taken it. Now, he could only fail to understand how he could have remained cruel to her. Then her hair teased his nostrils as she kept her face hid in his neck, and the scent of strawberry momentarily made him forget any other sense. Gradually, her sobs became fewer, but he didn't let her go until she had cried her last tear, and had long turned silent.

She stayed put, leant into his embrace. She felt sore, and drained, and for a moment, she only let him hold her as strongly as he could, and dreaded the moment when they'd both have to let go.

He tried to enjoy it as well; he got few moments like this one, and her proximity was a privilege he never took for granted. Nothing else was real to him right now but the woman in his arms, and this would remain the truth until reality caught up with them.

He pressed one last kiss to the top of her hair, inhaled the strawberry-like scent of her red locks, and tried to gather the strength to pull away.

"I should go." Sara observed, and he could tell by the numbness in her voice that she was still reeling from this whole night. Paul helped her get up, and she accepted his hand this time. "I, hum –" she faltered slightly. "Thank you, for staying."

"It was my pleasure." He was silent a moment, and added. "I never want you to be alone when you're in that state."

She lowered her eyes and shook her head, and Kellerman understood this was about Michael; anger crawled inside of him like a vicious parasite.

Then she opened her mouth, and he realized he was going to dislike this. "Michael is never going to forgive me." She stated, with such weariness he couldn't help but tighten his fists. "I really should have been alone tonight, Paul. If Michael is ever going to take me back –"

"Can you hear yourself talking?" He snapped, half surprised half upset. "Does it ever occur to you that if he can't forgive you after all you've done for him, then he's not worth the trouble?"

She sighed, hoping he'd drop it. "You don't know what you're talking about, Paul."

"Like hell I do." He shot back, angry but serious. "I know that when a man made more mistakes than his fair share, he can't afford to resent the person who suffered because of them." He shrugged without casualness. "Look at me, I'm a jerk ninety percent of the time and I tease you, but I'll never be mad at you."

"Don't compare the situations." She shook her head. "Don't compare yourself to him."

"Why not?" He yelled, and everything turned silent in the room.

She hadn't realized how angry he'd get, but he looked right about as angry as he did a few days ago, in the woods, when she had realized his true feelings for her. She could recall exactly how she had looked at him then, with incomprehension and disgust – and then, she realized these were the words she had said to him. Don't compare yourself to him.

"Because I don't even come close?" He said bitterly. There was no resent in his tone indeed, but a hint of reproach.

She shook her head a third time and sighed. "Don't do this."

But it was too late. In the blink of an eye, he had muted from the caring man who held her gently when she cried, to the man he was when he lost his temper.

Paul Kellerman was a very different man when he lost his temper.

"Why did you let me kiss you, Sara?" He asked out of the blues, but with an icy cold seriousness.

She closed her eyes, feeling grateful she had already run out of tears.

"Why?" He repeated.

He knew why, deep down, but he wanted to hear her say it. He wanted her to face it. And to see the hurt look in her eyes when she opened them again, didn't quite manage to make him want to stop more.

She faced his merciless eyes, and held her head high as she closed up like gates. "I can't do this right now, Paul."

She was so surprised when he got in her way that she let out a gasp, more startled than scared. He grabbed her by the shoulders when she tried to leave, and his grip was not painful but firm.

"I can't let you run from this, sweetheart. You won't manage to anyway, I should know. I tried."

"Let me go."

But he held her still, and she wondered how he could be so gentle one moment and so callous the next. "I'll let you go when you answer my question." He settled those terms and kept quiet, waiting for an answer.

She tried to pull away, but his hold on her was firm, so firm he was actually bruising her, but she doubted he was able to realize this, in his own desperation to hear her answer him – he had been dying to hear this since what felt like forever.

"Why did you let me kiss you?" He repeated ruthlessly, fingers digging into her skin.

She remained cold as ice under his touch. "I was caught in the moment."

"No you weren't, don't lie to me."

He kept her still until it was killing her, until he was shaking her, and until tears sprang from her eyes. "I couldn't stop it." She said, and. "You made me forget that it was wrong."

Almost it, but not quite enough. A few days ago, this only would have filled him with joy, but now the rage was swelling inside, and it wasn't satisfied. "Why did I have that power over you?"

"Stop it! _Please_."

He shook her one final time. "Why did you let me kiss you?"

"Because I love you!"

He lost his grip on her instantly, the second he heard the words he had drawn out of her mouth, and he acknowledged then the tears that had drowned her cheeks, and the strength he had used on her.

He could have knelt at her feet and apologized all night.

"And I hate you." She finished, with fire in her words, before she turned away and almost ran out the door.

He heard it slam behind her and he wanted to run after her, to tell her how sorry he was for making her confess what she wasn't ready to say, and for the final time that night, he compared himself to Scofield. The boy would have never grabbed her like he had.

...

Sara ran away, shaken with shame and tears. She could not believe she had said this, she could not believe he had made her say it; he wouldn't have let her go until she'd said the words, part of her knew that. Still she failed to understand how a single person could be so different from time to time; one moment he held her, and she trusted him with her life, she knew he would have died before hurting her, and the next he would not grant her a bit of mercy – perhaps this was why she realized she could never trust him. Because as soon as he would lose his temper, something like this would happen, or something like what had happened, in the forest.

Lincoln was right, he would hurt her, even if she were to give him everything, not because he didn't care about her, but because this was the kind of man he was; the kind of man who destructs everything, even what he loves. And she loved him back. Was she so masochist that she would fall in love with this kind of man? What would her father, late Frank Tancredi, say of this new kind of self-destruction?

But what if it wasn't self-destruction?

What if it was just beyond her control?

No matter the reason why she felt this way, she did. And she had told him. She wanted so badly to rewind time, and not make the same mistakes again. Shame filled all the space in her mind. She should have never said these words, even if he had threatened her all night. How could she have remained silent under torture and given in tonight? And how come, after everything he had done, right now, part of her still wanted to run back in his arms?

She forbade herself to go back for him, even though he had come back for her; she needed to get him out of her mind, to get him out of her system. She needed to find Michael, to put him first like he had asked, like she had every day of her life since she had met him.

She went downstairs, and searched for him among all the sleeping persons, but she couldn't find him anywhere, so she tried to think like him; and if it were her right now, she'd want to be alone. It hit her, and she went downstairs to the field. She finally stopped holding her breath when she saw him there, but couldn't manage to be relieved. He was playing carelessly with a ball, throwing it against the wall and catching it again, like a prisoner in his cell. She knew he had noticed her presence, but he didn't turn to look at her.

She walked to him, and dared to whisper a greeting. "Hey."

He didn't answer, or bother to look at her, and she found this much irritating; as if playing with his ball was more important than her all of a sudden. Annoyed, she caught it before he did and threw it at the other end of the field. He finally looked at her, and the careless attitude he intended to play until now was dropped when he saw the hurt in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" He couldn't help asking even if he was mad.

"We're not together," she said, "how could I be?"

He lowered his eyes. "Look, Sara," he said looking at her again, "I was furious earlier, but it doesn't mean I don't believe we can fix this."

"It's not yours to fix. I'm the one who made a mistake, and I'm the one who's going take care of it."

"What are you going to do?" He asked.

"I'll end whatever there is to end with Paul." She shrugged, but there was nothing careless about it. "I can't ask him to leave, because right now just stepping out of the house would be dangerous but I'll stop this, whatever bond I had with him, I'll break it. It's over, Michael."

It was as painful to say it as she thought it would be, but at the same time… after tonight, part of her felt as though she could never face Paul again, anyway.

"You don't have to do that." Michael said softly, as though she were being harsh on herself. "You don't have to end your friendship –"

"No, but I need to." She interrupted. "I want to."

What she wanted was for Michael to sweep Paul out of her mind. What she wanted was to make the right choice for once in her life, instead of letting herself fall for someone she knew would hurt her, someone who had hurt her, and who still had the nerves to make her love him.

She cleared her throat. "Look, Michael, I want us to start again. We love each other, and I want this to be enough, like it was before. Paul can't be in the way of that."

"Why?" His brows furrowed and he asked. "Did you see him again tonight?" He didn't seem angry as much as worried, now. Then coldness pervaded his tone. "Hey, did he hurt you?"

"He did." She said neutrally. "Not tonight, but he hurt me too many times and you were right, I don't owe him anything. I don't owe him a friendship of any sort, and if I lose you because of him, I'll never forgive him or myself."

She kept her head held high, and tried to keep her tone calm. Anger was the only thing holding her back. She had made a promise and she would stick to it, even if she had to wonder for the rest of her life if she had chosen wrong again.

"Listen," Michael sighed, "I want you to know I'm not mad about the kiss. And even if I was, I'd come back to you in the end. I always come back to you, Sara."

"I know." She said, and. "This is me coming back to you." She stepped closer to him and wrapped her arms around him, and soon their embrace was doing a great job sweeping away the rest… almost all the rest, except from how gentle Paul's embrace had been, earlier. But the tenderness had turned into rage.

Michael would never lose his temper like this. He would never endanger her safety or harm her with his own hands. And as she made her choice, she knew she was making the safest choice, and the choice that would stop her from getting hurt.

It was a good choice. So why did it feel like the wrong one?

...

Sara woke up in her boyfriend's arms. They had only held each other, all night, and it had been wonderful, and a reminder of how secure she had always felt in his embrace. She still felt secure. Only she wondered if this feeling that something was missing would fade with time, or stay always. She wondered if what was missing was something she could live without.

"Good morning." Michael said, and she smiled when he guessed she was awake. He kissed the top of her head, then chuckled. "Did anyone ever tell you you smell like strawberries?"

"No." She lied nervously; truth was, she would rather not remember it had happened, and in which context.

Michael buried his face in her neck, and she sighed with contentment. She felt him grin against her skin when he started pressing kisses there.

She hazarded. "Do I taste like strawberries too?"

"Hum." He said for an answer, and she chuckled some more. She did want to forget that missing something, and at times like this one, it felt like she could.

She started kissing him too, everywhere she could reach him, as his kisses lowered to the corner of her mouth, then to her jaw-line. She pulled away from his embrace to ask, careful not to hurt his feelings. "Hey, not that I don't like where you're going with this, but don't you think people are going to come looking for us?"

A second after she'd spoken, knocks were heard on the door. Sara laughed when her boyfriend feigned to glare at her. "You jinxed us." He accused, making her chuckle again. He got up with a sigh, and went to open the door. "Hello, Linc." He said coldly. "How good to see you."

"I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Aren't you always?" He shook his head. "Forget it, what's wrong."

"Look, it's not that I don't think it's cool you two got a room and all, it's just I don't think it's wise to be locked in it all morning long."

"Lincoln, are you seriously talking to me about wise? I can't believe that's why I got out of bed."

"He's actually right."

Michael turned towards Sara when she joined them both at the door. Except from slightly messy hair, she looked perfectly presentable.

"We should be training at the field, with everyone."

"Well, that's one reason." Lincoln said. "The other is, I was hoping to have a word with you." He looked at Sara while saying this, and Michael's eyes became puzzled.

"And I have a feeling I know what you want to talk about." Sara said calmly.

"Hum… Well." Michael said awkwardly, after pressing a kiss to Sara's hand. "I'll just be waiting outside."

Sara smiled, but waited until he was out of side to look back at Lincoln. "There's actually no need for this. I told Michael."

"Oh." He couldn't help looking surprised.

"Yeah, well, I don't want there to be lies in our relationship anymore, and – as you've witnessed, we're both OK."

Lincoln nodded. "Well, that's great news. Except that you both kind of hate me right now, right?"

Sara laughed nervously, but it sounded hollow. She was actually a bit relieved Lincoln had come to interrupt.

"Well," the older brother went on, "I'm just saying I hope you'll be all right."

"Come on, Linc." She rolled her eyes, but didn't believe herself saying it. "It's not like I had feelings for him or anything."

It occurred to her then that he might not buy it either, but he had the decency to pretend he had.

When they both walked to the field again, Sara felt anything but ready. She didn't know how she would face Paul after what she had said last night, and what she had promised to Michael. It had seemed like the logical thing to do, at the time, but now it felt a bit like she had double-crossed them both. Maybe she should just ignore Kellerman from now on, and get him to think that she'd moved on. But wouldn't the first step of moving on be to stop thinking of him?

"So, do you want to train?"

Sara swallowed. "You go ahead, I'll sit for a while. I'm feeling kind of dizzy."

He was tempted to ask her what was wrong , but it looked too much as though she wanted to be alone. "Well, join us whenever." He walked away, and she sat on one of the benches.

Her eyes got lost in the crowd, and she realized she was still looking for him, obliviously. She had promised Michael never to even speak to him again, and her eyes searched for him despite herself. She really shouldn't be thinking about Kellerman. And yet she wondered if she'd ever feel as warm again, as she had when he held her – it hadn't happened many times, but it had been enough to identify an unmistakable sensation.

When she had held him in her arms, after the woods, for the first time since her mother had died, she had felt like she was home.

There had been a reason why she had given him up, but right now, through the cold that smothered her, she couldn't think of it. It felt a bit as though she would never be warm again.

Her eyes were still lost in the crowd, and she decided she shouldn't be searching for him anyway. She got up and got ready to leave, but when she lowered her eyes, he caught them first.

He was at the other end of the field, his eyes were already on her, and she wondered how long he had been looking at he. There was no amusement or confidence in his gaze; she could read how sorry he felt, but this wasn't about what he felt anymore. She had made a choice. She had made a promise. She just had to find the strength to keep it.

She could only remember too well the first time she had held him, and rested her head against his heartbeat, his strong arms locked around her. He was so scared then, and confused, and she had never felt more needed or loved than that night. It didn't feel like doing anything wrong, or crossing a line; it had just been holding, plus a few gentle strokes. But now, she was the one who needed it again. And she wished she could go back to hating him, or better yet, that all she felt for him were indifference, or pity. She wanted Michael to be the only one. She wanted to be able to look at a man she should hate with all her soul, and be able to let him go.

He was no friend nor further. He was no good for her. All that could come out of this was pain.

She couldn't tear her eyes from his still.

All the feelings she had to fight down, all the sacrifices she had to make, all she had to do was reunited in two words. Letting go.

She tried to find her breath, but realized she couldn't. She didn't struggle or panic, but held her breath still, her eyes still fixed on him. She inhaled deeply, and made the inward vow that even if she had to live half alive until her last breath… she would never make the mistake of letting him in again. She had made it once, and had almost ended up drowned.

Now, she couldn't breathe still.

But all the mistakes she had made with him still felt like the only things she had gotten right.

She didn't let go. But in her mind at least, she said goodbye.

Kellerman didn't move. Sara's eyes on him seemed lost, and oddly free from pain through her resignation, and he wished he could take back what he had done the other night; and at the same time, he never wanted to forget it. She'd said she loved him, but love shouldn't be like this. It shouldn't be brutal, and it shouldn't come with hate. Love shouldn't be about wondering if she was alone, missing him… or if someone was out there, loving her.

Love should have made her his. Yesterday, holding her in his arms, he had hated the person he had once been, and hated he had ever been able to take advantage of her – but the hardest was probably to realize it wasn't someone he used to be; it was someone he still was. A second. It was all it had taken for the situation to be flipped over, and he had been the cause of that. She was already shaken, and he had pressed strategically on her weaknesses to obtain what he wanted from her. It might just have cost him her.

It had just been beyond his control.

He hated this part of himself, but the fact remained, it was there. And he wondered how he could be a monster when what he truly was, was a man who loved a woman like a first love.

He felt like a fool to have ever believed he could give her anything she needed. The kiss had been like a door opening on the future, but now, it felt like a dream. Yesterday had been the awakening. Had he only been fooling himself, thinking one day, she'd choose him? She was a better person than him, so was Scofield; what was he? A young-old man who's not a dreamer, and only dreams one dream.

He dreamed of a woman who was out of his league. For a second, he pictured himself a better man, the man who would deserve to love her, a man who wouldn't torture the only woman he'd loved in the name of loyalty. If he had chosen differently, everything might be different, and he might not be losing her now; he had been afraid of losing the only thing that had ever mattered to him, control, and in the course of that, he had lost the only thing that had truly ever mattered in the end.

He wanted to run to her now, but he wouldn't have known what to say. She had changed his life, she had changed his goal, and she had changed his plans for dreams.

They both stood still, looking at each other among the crowd. He knew that look in her eyes, and he knew it meant goodbye.

Three words, Sara thought again. Let him go. I love you.

"Goodbye." She said instead, but it was not for him to hear. Then she turned away, and fled the distance between them instead of crossing it.

Seeing her walk away was the required motivation to give him the strength to move. He followed her into the pathway, and when she aimed to open the entry door, he closed it shut, forcing her to acknowledge his presence, and his proximity.

"Wait." He only asked, his arm blocking her way.

Her eyes went over him, and he knew who she was looking for. If Michael could see them now, it would be hell for her.

"Move." She gathered enough calm into her tone. "This is it, Paul. We can't work out, the two of us, even you must have seen it. It can't be right."

"But, Sara." He shook his head. "We didn't even try."

She wanted to look down, but was unable to.

"Can you honestly tell me you'll live your life knowing we'll never have what we could have had? Can you at least tell me how." He shook his head again. "Because I don't understand."

"Because I have something else to live for." She said it more to hurt him than to convince him, or to convince herself. Perhaps hurting him was the only way to break the cycle that had settled in, after he had hurt her.

"Well." He only said. A short silence settled and he added. "I won't give up on you."

"You have to." She put strength in her voice. She clenched her teeth and swallowed before she reminded. "After the woods, you said you'd anything I asked you to do."

He clenched his teeth as well. "I did."

"Well, I'm asking you – to let me go."

She walked past him, and was out the door before he could react. The arm that was blocking her way a second later fell back to his side.

...

Their swords met with strength, in a sharp noise. "Nicely done." Lincoln observed. "You're getting pretty good at this."

Michael twisted his arm to go under Lincoln's, and be able to aim his weapon at his neck. "You're dead." He stated after lowering his weapon. "Well, do you want to take a break?"

The both sighed, trying to catch their breaths. "So," Lincoln said after a while of silence, "what's up with you and Sare?"

Michael let out a sigh through his panting. "It's complicated."

"I know." A short silence set, and Lincoln repeated. "And I mean, _I know_."

Michael couldn't help looking surprised. "You know what?"

"About the Kellerman and Sara thing going on."

"_What_?"

Lincoln shrugged. "I walked in on them."

"And you didn't think it was important to tell me?"

"Well, I thought I'd give Sara a chance to tell you."

Michael calmed down a bit, and ultimately sighed. "Well, it's insane, isn't it?"

"Definitely insane." Lincoln agreed with a wince. "I wonder what she can see in a man like him."

"Well," Michael said, unwillingly dry, "it doesn't matter. It's over now."

"Yeah. By the way, do you think she's all right with that?"

Michael said, a little upset. "Why shouldn't she be all right?"

"No need to get angry, Mike."

"Well, I'm sorry if I'm not extremely enthusiastic to ask myself whether the woman I love feels sorry she had to break up with the man I hate most on this planet. I mean honestly, should I care?"

"Yes."

He said it as though it was obvious, and Michael sighed. "Well, I'd like to see you in my shoes. Look, I love Sara, you know I do, but right now, the only thing I want to do is destroy the man who tried to steal her away. I can't, so I'm angry. You don't have to be a genius to get that, Linc."

"Well, did you think of her in all of this?"

"Of course, I did, I just –"

"Listen." He interrupted. "I'm only saying this can't be the easiest week in her life. I don't want to see you get hurt, little brother. I'd just hate to watch her get hurt, too."

Michael shook his head, beyond serious. "I don't want to hurt her. Look, I know where this is coming from, okay? Sara –" He marked a short involuntary pause. "She isn't at her best, I know. But she'll get better, and so will we."

A short silence settled. "Do you think she had feelings for him?" Lincoln wondered.

"No." Michael answered right away. "I mean – honestly, I don't know. What I do know is that she chose to be with me, and I want to be with her, and I wish it were that simple. She's been through a lot these past couple of months, that alone could explain she feels confused. Her father was killed, she was kidnapped, put through god knows what, and now she's somehow gotten involved in a war."

Lincoln nodded. "I get your point. This is pretty much enough to explain temporary insanity. Just be sure you come to me if you need anything, all right?"

"All right." His brother agreed, before raising his sword. "Again?" He suggested with a sigh.

…

Sara slammed the door behind her, locking herself inside her room. She tried to think of the best moments she had shared with Michael, and flashes of memories flew across her mind. Strong hands around her waist through the insanity of a riot. A thumb softly slid over her wrist.

She held her hands against her ears, as if to brainwash herself.

She loved Michael, she did. She would just have to live with the knowledge that she had loved another man, and made a choice.

She had never before allowed herself to picture the life she could have had with Paul; perhaps because she thought the damages might go beyond repair, if she merely allowed the thought in for one second. But then it was too late to contain the damages, because she closed her eyes and in a blink, she saw it.

She saw herself, a few years from now, entering a home that must be her own. '_I'm back.' Says the woman, auburn hair flying down her shoulders as she walks to join the man she married, the man who holds a baby girl in his arms._

_'__Finally.' Her husband says before leaning in to kiss her. 'I was starting to miss you. So was she.' Paul adds, eyes straying to their daughter. He hands her the child carefully, and she takes her in her arms and watches her in awe. The girl is beautiful, with fair hair, and blue curious eyes that gaze at her, bewildered. _

When Sara opened her eyes, the child was gone, and so was the husband. He was _not_ her husband. "What am I doing?" She whispered to herself, burying her face in her hands. She was startled by a few knocks on the door. "Who's there?"

"It's me. Please, Sara, open the door."

She froze at the sound of Kellerman's voice. "Paul, please go away."

"I promise I'll behave."

"I don't care! _Leave_."

"Oh, really?" He said, angry also, and let out a curse. "Fine, then I'll just stay here all day, and – set a camp on your doorstep. We need to talk, Sara."

"Well, we won't!"

"Is this how you're going to be? Then I'll just talk to you through this door."

"My god, are you serious?"

Only silence answered her. It was a rhetorical question, anyway.

Kellerman let out a sigh, and began. "Sara, since I've met you –"

"You have got to be kidding." She sighed through gritted teeth.

He ignored her and went on, serious. "I've just… I've always felt connected to you –"

She grunted with frustration and opened the door brutally, and was satisfied to see he was leaning against it, and nearly fell in the room.

He didn't seem disturbed however, and briefly adjusted his clothes. "Well, now that you're in a better mood," he said, "would you agree that we need to talk?"

"Actually –" She started, but he could tell this was going towards a negative answer and walked past her, to sit on the bed. She let out an angry chuckle of disbelief. "I'm sorry, didn't you say you wanted to _talk_?"

He shrugged. "Well, we can talk on a bed." He grinned and went on seductively. "We can do many things on a bed."

He hoped for a laugh, but she only shook her head. "How can everything just not get to you?" She wondered.

He sat back up, serious. "This does get to me. You get to me." He let out a sigh. "Why don't you sit down so we can have a chat? What?" He went on at her reluctance. "Are you afraid I'll kiss you again?"

"No." She lied, then shook her head once mire. "I don't get it, you know. How you can be so changeable, one second to the next. How you can be serious, then teasing, how you can be so gentle and then so –" She bit back her words, but she knew he noticed.

The unspoken part of her sentence was: _cruel_.

But instead of looking hurt, he forced on a slight smile. "Well, it's easy." He said. "Actually, you make it easy. It's really not logical at all, around you, I can't help but being a jerk."

"Yes, I've noticed that."

His smile became more genuine, and he went on seriously. "It can't be like that every time we run into each other, you know. I couldn't stand it, for things to be this hard every time I see you."

"Neither could I." She confessed.

"Well…" He grinned. "You might dislike the idea, but it could help if we decided to be entirely honest to each other." He watched her blush and added. "We could even skip the kissing part."

"I'm not sure I'm in for that, Paul. Honesty." She added.

"Why, don't you think we can have an honest conversation without jumping on each other?"

Her cheeks became a whole new level of red, and he was content to have discovered a new shade.

"I'm only saying honesty wouldn't hurt." He shrugged calmly. "Just let out all the anger you hold against me –"

"How could you do this to me?!" She shouted, and he figured it hadn't taken too long. "Last night, how could you – make me say what you did, and act as if nothing were wrong the next morning?"

"Well, for what it's worth, I regret what I did yesterday. I'm sorry I hurt you."

"You're sorry?" She echoed with irony.

"As funny as it is to you, yes." He said calmly. "I've never felt sorry in my entire life, until you came along, as a matter of fact, I hadn't felt guilt or remorse, either. Now, it's all I can think about." He paused for a second, still calm, and without resent. "But you don't care about that, do you? Sara Tancredi, you are the first woman who ever broke my heart, and I respect you for it, and maybe even love you more. And I am sorry I lost my temper last night, I'm sorry I keep being selfish with you, because I can't stand to be."

He was silent for a moment, and she asked. "I thought you said you wouldn't let me break your heart."

As it turned out, it didn't quite come out as a question, but expectant still.

He only took a second answering, still calm. "I broke my own heart hurting you."

She looked away. "I get you're sorry, Paul." She said. "But sorry doesn't really change anything, at this point. For what it's worth, I'm sorry too."

He got up to face her when she turned away. "And what would you be sorry for?"

"Kissing you."

She expected to see a pained look on his face at any time now, but instead he only stared at her, with the shadow of a smile on his lips. "No you're not." He stated, too serious to be lying – so serious she was afraid this whole situation had just been turned around.

His gaze on her was intense, and Sara suddenly came to wonder if it wasn't exactly the way he'd looked at her, just before he kissed her.

She swallowed as his grin widened, and glanced at the door, as though trying to assess whether or not she'd beat him to it.

"Don't worry." He said with a large smile, as if reading her mind. "I'm not going to kiss you. Well, unless you want me to. Do you?"

"No." She answered quickly, a scared plea.

"Oh, too bad. Are you sure?"

"No." She said again without thinking. "I mean, yes!" He was already laughing, of course, and she shook her head before he could push more inappropriate things out of her. "Look, you really should go." She really didn't want to go through more unnecessary humiliation.

"Go?" He arched a brow, feigning outrage as she grabbed his arm to try to drag him towards the door. "But we didn't even make out yet."

"You know what? You're right. You're really a jerk." She tried to push him out vainly as he sneered, but hardly managed to make him budge. Kellerman couldn't help laughing at her vain attempts, and when she realized how useless it was, she began hammering her fists in his chest instead. "Would you move, you rock?"

He laughed more. "Stop it, sweetheart." He said, grabbing both her hands in his. "You'll only damage your adorable little fists." With these words, he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it, drawing an outraged breath out of her.

She tried to take advantage of their position to punch him in the nose, and instead he brought her hands to his chest, drawing her to him. He smiled with satisfaction. "You're my prisoner." He observed.

"And considering our history, it's not that funny."

He ignored her comment. She wasn't scared of him, not anymore, or if she was, the fear that remained was the good kind; the kind you feel when you are playing hide and seek, and you hear footsteps coming your way.

Out of strategies, she met his eyes and swallowed, involuntarily breathless. "Don't." She managed. "This is wrong."

He countered. "It wouldn't feel this good if it was wrong."

And for a split second, she had a hard time remembering why it was. "Paul," she pleaded, "you need to, hum… you really have to stop all of your comments, and huh –"

"Touches?" He prompted, deciding it was delightful to watch her struggle with words, still not allowing her to move an inch away.

"Yes, that." She said awkwardly. "There can be no more of that.

He feigned disappointment, but didn't set her free. "Why not?"

"I don't like it."

"Yes you do."

"Well –"

She interrupted herself. Suddenly, three knocks were pounded on the door, half-pulling her out of the state she was in; she immediately tore away from Kellerman, but it wasn't enough to quench his smile.

"Shit." She cursed, and he'd get to mock her for it later. "Who's there?" She spoke a little louder.

"It's me, honey." She recognized Michael's voice. "Why is the door locked?"

Panic went over her. "I'm hum… I'm changing. I didn't want anyone to come in."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire."

"Shut up." She shoved Kellerman in the chest.

"Well," Michael said, "can you let me in?" Despite the softness in his voice, it was not all that innocent, and it was a tone Sara had heard many times before – it was seduction.

She closed her eyes, and tried to summon coherence into her thoughts. "Sure, just give me a minute to dress."

"But –"

"A minute, Michael!" She turned towards Kellerman, extremely serious. "You need to hide."

"What?" He said, without dropping the smile. "But you said you had no clothes on, I want to stick around in case it comes true."

"_Hilarious_." She grunted while pushing him towards the first hiding place she found.

He arched a brow. "The closet, seriously?"

"Just be quiet." She locked him in, before hurrying towards the door to greet Michael.

Kellerman still had a clear enough view of the room, through the slim slots that barred the door. At this moment, he took a second to realize he was hiding inside the bedroom of the woman he loved, like a typical lover concealed in the closet, while the husband came home. He was utterly unable to tame his grin.

"Honey." Sara said with a forced smile as she saw Michael. "I was just about to go down. Do you feel like getting something to eat?"

He let out a nervous irresistible laugh, and she wished she didn't have to be so distracted by the cute shyness and desire in his gorgeous eyes. "I was actually hoping we could get some time alone, just the two of us." He closed the door, and she lingered on how sensual the movement was – oh well; she was doomed. "Everyone is at the field, so –"

Sara gasped as he drew her to him with a sudden wave of hand, an arm locked around her back.

"No one will bother us here." He finished.

She only realized how awkward this situation was going to get when he pushed her gently towards the bed, but didn't have time to utter a word before his lips crushed hers passionately.

Kellerman's fists tightened inside the closet. He had definitely dropped the grin now.

"Michael –" Sara managed in between kisses. "I'm not, I mean – are you sure this is…"

He didn't seem to hear her, and she figured she was going to have to do better than that, if she didn't want this situation to become _more_ embarrassing. But before she had time to figure out how, she was being pushed on the bed, and as her back hit the mattress, she could feel Michael's weight settling between her legs, and a hand creeping up her thigh.

"Honey?" Her voice came out acute and urgent. He only reacted when she lowered his hand with hers. "Michael, a second of your attention please?"

He pulled away in a wet 'plop' sound. Her lips still felt rough from the passionate contact.

"What's the matter?" He asked.

"Nothing, no matter." She shook her head. "I just, hum – I meant what I said earlier, I was going to go downstairs to get something to eat. So… I'm hungry."

She was bummed to note he only seemed half-focused on her words; he was now busy kissing her neck area, and flicked his tongue over her earlobe as he had many times before, visibly hoping to obtain the reaction he usually got.

She let out a sigh. "Look, Michael, I'm hungry for food."

"Come on, Sara. I promise I'll go get you something in a moment, I want you so much right now."

She resisted the temptation to run out the door. She couldn't have felt less in the mood for sex right now, especially with Paul watching and probably hearing every damned sound from his closet – and he was going to be _unlivable_ after this. Still, she was surprised to note part of her felt hungry for Michael's touches; maybe, unfortunately, this whole situation wasn't such a mood killer after all.

Nevertheless, she thought, putting herself back together, this was a terrible time to be horny.

In the meantime, inside his closet, Kellerman clenched both fists and teeth. He wanted to slaughter that Scofield boy right now; his anger drew him towards all sorts of creative tortures, but he figured he'd probably be all right just snapping his neck then throwing him out that window, and taking care of the unfinished business with Sara. Yes; that'd be about right.

Michael was still sucking kisses down her neck, and the young woman ultimately lost patience and sighed. "For god's sake, Michael, would you please stop kissing me and get me something to eat?"

He drew away immediately, lifting his face off her neck to meet her eyes. Guilt came over her right at the time she spotted the obvious disappointment on his face.

"Oh." He nodded, visibly without understanding. "You mean, you don't want –"

"No, of course I do." She interrupted. She bit her lip, trying to improvise. "It's just you see, I was thinking of how hungry I was, and I just thought this would be even better if we had some – whipped cream."

He raised an eyebrow, surprised but not displeased. "Really?"

Sara closed her eyes in despair, wondering just how many ways Paul was going to come up with to mock her about this. "Yes." She said. "Would you go downstairs and get it for me, dear?"

"Sure." He brought his lips against hers two more times before he got up. "I'll be right back."

She jumped on her feet as soon as he left, and ran straight to the closet to unlock it. "You need to get out of here!" She basically screamed, pulling on Kellerman's arm to get him out.

"You know," he said pensively, "I've always known you had an ear thing."

"Don't comment."

"Whipped cream is an interesting choice as well. Some people are more into sticky than slippery, I'm quite a fan of both myself –"

"_Shut_ up."

He ignored her one final time. "This is actually good for us, Sara, I told you honesty would only bring upsides. Up to a minute ago, I don't think I had an idea how wild you are."

"Well," she snapped, "you're about to find out how wild I am if you don't move your ass now!"

The door suddenly popped open and Michael came through, a bowl of whipped cream in his hands. The silence that set in was unbearable. Michael's eyes went to the open closet, to Kellerman then Sara, and in a second, the word 'embarrassing' climbed to a whole new level.

Sara watched both men as they literally formed a triangle in the room, and there was nowhere to escape; just her boyfriend, her tormentor, a bowl of whipped cream, and a very heavy silence.

She was the first to break it.

"So," she cleared her throat, "I promise there is a very decent explanation for all of this."


	18. Chapter 18

'_The man is tall mad mean and good looking, and he's got me in his eye.'_

_Big Bad Handsome Man, Imelda May_

Michael's eyes were set on Paul, as if he were trying to make him drop dead with just one look. "Sara," he spoke through gritted teeth, without tearing his eyes from his rival, "could you perhaps share this explanation?"

"Yes, of course." She said, trying to get him to calm down. "This is actually nothing but a huge misunderstanding." Please don't strangle Paul. "Which I will be glad to tell you about, if you will just look me in the eyes."

Michael sighed angrily, before turning back towards her.

"That's much better." Sara said.

"Get to the point." He suggested, still clenching his teeth.

"Yes." She agreed. "It's actually very funny." She added, hoping he would relax, but Michael didn't seem to find the situation funny at all. His eyes were already back on Paul, and he started slowly making his way towards him. "See, Paul and I were just talking, and then you showed up and he hum… he just felt like hiding in the closet and – please don't kill him!"

But Michael's fist was already crashing in Paul's face. Kellerman got over it fast, and was just as quick to return the blow; he was actually thrilled Michael had given him an excuse to fight, without looking like the bad guy. Actually, ever since he'd seen Michael's hands travelling up Sara's body, a few minutes ago, he couldn't be more in the mood for this kind of exercise.

The blow hit Michael right in the nose.

"Stop it, both of you!" Sara yelled, but both men ignored her. Michael hit back and reached Paul's left eye, before Sara got between them physically. "Stop it, _right_ now." She ordered. "Michael, I can explain this, I promise it isn't what it looks like." 

"Move away, Sara," Paul said, genuinely concerned. "I don't want you to catch an accidental punch."

"Well, that's rich! All you do is hurting her." Michael yelled. "You ruin everything, don't you get it? You're a parasite. We were happy, everything was fine before you came along, why can't you just fucking die!"

"Michael, don't!" Sara shouted just as loud, and he pushed her aside just before jumping on Kellerman. They both remained on the ground in a battle for dominance, and Sara got up with a grunt, rubbing her head. "I am so tired of you both." She complained, before grabbing her boyfriend's shirt and forcing him off Paul.

"Get away, Sara." Michael warned. "It's the least you can do."

"And when is the last time you asked for the least I could do?" She asked dryly. "When didn't you ask for absolutely everything you could take?" She watched Kellerman got up, with fire in his eyes. "Don't even think about it." She said. "I mean it, Paul, don't start."

Kellerman tightened his fists, to quench the urge to beat the life out of Michael. He really didn't think he could hate him more, until after he saw him push Sara to the ground.

"Both of you sit down," she said, and it sounded like an order. "We're going to talk about this, OK? Then we'll all realize there is nothing to be angry about, and we'll feel silly for making a big deal about this, how does that sound?"

"You really hope to make me believe that?" Michael said, sounding willingly ironic. "That the two of you were just talking, which led to the very logical following of him hiding in a closet?"

"Yes." Sara said, as calm as she could manage. "I went to the field, I got back inside my room, he came to my door and threatened to set a tent there if I didn't open up. All we did was talk, Michael, but when you showed I knew you'd be furious and I acted on impulse. I acted stupidly." She corrected. "And then, well… things got a little out of hands."

"Sara, please at least have the decency to be honest about this."

"Well, what do you think we were doing? Do you think we were kissing, or having sex? Do you really think I would do that to you?"

"You're actually the only reason why she doesn't do it."

Michael glared at Paul, but didn't get the time to make a move before Sara tightened her hold on his shirt. "Enough already." She said. "I know what this looks like, Michael, I do, but you have to believe me. We were only having a conversation which ended horribly, horribly wrong."

Her boyfriend remained quiet, still staring at Kellerman, who was grinning. "I trust you, Sara." He said. "You know I trust you, but you promised yesterday that you would never talk to this man again."

Paul mouthed the word 'what', and Sara struggled to deal with both men at the same time. "I know," she said, "and it's precisely why I didn't want to talk to him at first, but he threatened to spend the night on my doorstep. I just panicked when I heard you come in, and so I asked him to hide. I realize this sounds like an excuse, but you have to believe me."

He sighed, but in a cute way, and met his eyes with involuntary tenderness. "I'm a fool if I believe you, aren't I?"

She forced on a smile. "I was a fool too, wasn't I?"

She watched him carefully until he couldn't quench his smile, and then his eyes set on Kellerman, angry again. "Don't you get the vibe that this is a two-person conversation?"

Paul grinned. Truth was, he did get the vibe and he would have left, if he hadn't worried Michael might find his way back on top of Sara. No, he had to make sure nothing physical would be happening between those two tonight, and he knew just the means.

"Well," he got, his eyes set on the woman, "I can always tell when I'm not wanted, unfortunately, there is something here that I can't bear to leave behind."

He slowly made his way to Sara until he was standing right in front of her, and leant forwards to pick up the bowl Michael had brought earlier. "Whipped cream." He said, before dipping a finger in the smooth creamy mixture and sucking hard. "Hum." He moaned, the smirk wider than ever as he observed both shocked parties in the room. He put the bowl down with an exaggerated sigh. "Unforgettable."

"I'm still sorry about this morning. Paul was –"

"It's okay, Sara." Her boyfriend interrupted. "I'm really sorry I punched him – well, no, but I am sorry I pushed you. You know, I just jumped to hasty conclusions."

"Anyone would have."

It was now close to eight p.m., and Michael had brought some Chinese food up to Sara's room.

"Well, not that you hadn't seen this coming, but I still hate him."

Sara smiled shyly. She hated when Michael tried to let out his rage about Kellerman and hoped she would join in; since she no longer hated him, they couldn't do that anymore, and she never really knew what to say. "Well," she shrugged, "let's see the upsides of this. We got ourselves an extremely funny anecdote that we'll be able to talk about for years."

She escaped his eyes and pretended to pay attention to her noodles. Then dark thought came across her mind, like a black stormy cloud; she could remember hanging out with Lance, on early-afternoons at her apartment, and making fun of his way of eating with chopsticks.

There was no way this precise thought wrote itself on her forehead, and still when she looked up, she met a grave look in Michael's eyes. "He's still part of your life." He said, as if reading her mind.

She struggled not to lower her eyes, but kept her head high. "I can't help it." She simply said.

Michael nodded. "Look, I know that the right thing to do right now would be to be understandable. I know you care about this man, but honestly? I can't stand the sight of him. It'd be enough for him to have put you through hell and still to be claiming you, but on top of that, he's a complete jerk."

"I know, and I'm not asking you anything other than to let him live. Besides, he's a good fighter, you know that, and Buffy could really use him."

"Sara." Michael used his lecturing tone, and she had the odd impression that she was talking to her father. "That's not the real reason, and you know it."

"Well, what do you want me to say?" She sounded annoyed. "It's not as though I don't think it was more convenient when I hated him, okay? It was, I admit it, and I wish I still did now." She shook her head. "Things have changed in the woods, Michael. I know you don't understand how and I can't explain it, but they changed. And you're right, I care about him, but in an innocent way."

He got up, and spoke coldly; she really shouldn't have brought up the woods. "So the two of you kissed innocently?"

She arose from the bed as well. "What do you want to hear, Michael? Can you at least tell me, that way we can make up tonight instead of the next morning, it'll save some time."

"All I know is ever since he walked into our lives, all we do is argue!"

"Fine, and who brought him in?" She shot back, and he closed his mouth, unable to answer. "Look," she ran a hand through her hair, "I don't know why I feel that way about him. Honestly, I have no idea why I'm not writing down a list of why he's a jerk with you right now. I don't know, all right?" She lowered her eyes. "I told you that I would give him up, Michael, and I will if you ask me to."

She remained silent, and he insisted. "But?"

She hesitated for a minute, before letting out a slight sigh; she owed him the truth. "But I'll never be happy." She confessed, apologetically. "And you can't change that."

Truth be told, she wasn't certain she could give him up as easily as she made it sound; she knew she was bluffing when she said it; she also knew she was making Michael choose between his happiness and hers. She realized that it was selfish, it came down to wanting to have it both ways, but right at this second, it did feel like she needed both ways; it didn't feel like there was any other way anymore.

Michael looked at her for a painful while. He suddenly caught himself wishing they had both stayed in Fox River Penitentiary, forevermore. 

"Do you think you can change the way you feel about him?" He asked, not dry or cold, but wary; he was aware he was talking to a woman who had been put through almost anything by a man she now had feelings for, and he couldn't claim to understand the pain of that.

She answered on the same tone, calm but serious. "I tried." She only said. "I need him around, Michael. I don't know why, and I know it's not fair. I could try to fight it –"

"No." Michael interrupted, this time with a hint of harshness, but no reproach. "No," he repeated, "you've sacrificed enough for me." He was silent for a while, and she waited for him to go on. "And if you and I are together?" He finally wondered. "If Kellerman is your friend? Would you be happy then?"

She closed her eyes with a sigh. As if she were a spoiled brat asking for one more birthday present. "That's not what I meant, Michael."

"Just answer. Would you be happy?"

She noted he didn't sound angry. Right at this moment, she also realized she had asked him to accept her love for another man. Despite being America's most wanted man, Michael Scofield was probably every woman's dream; Sara wasn't sure she'd ever felt more like a fool than now.

"Yes." She said, and quenched the guilt in her tone.

He had given her no reason to be angry at him, and he wasn't angry at her, still a cold atmosphere had settled in the room. He must have noticed the absurdity too, because a second later, he let out a humorless chuckle and shook his head, not a bit amused.

"Look, Sara, the only thing that matters to me right now is that I love you. You've been through enough pain for me before, and if you think I will make you give up anything that brings you comfort when I've made you a fugitive, you don't know me so well." He took a step closer to her, and brought a hand over her cheek.

The contact was soft, and she closed her eyes for a second, grateful that he'd made her feel comfortable again.

She smiled, but it didn't manage not to look smile. "You know," she said, "I think there's some sort of soya dessert that comes with that." She knew she was fleeing, and he probably knew it too, but right now, it felt like a good escape for them both.

"Really?" He said, his tone lighter; he still didn't sound resentful.

"I'll go get it, you just sit there."

"Sure."

She turned around and headed for the door; she couldn't quite leave before saying one last thing. "And Michael?"

He met her eyes, kind and honest.

"Thank you." She said.

"You're welcome." He replied.

And she disappeared downstairs.

…

Sara thought there was a slim chance that, by making small efforts like getting up to pick up dessert, the guilty feeling in her chest might end up going away. She headed towards the kitchen as soon as she got downstairs; the last thing she wanted right now was to keep Michael waiting.

The living room and dining room were crowded, but she was happy to note there was not a soul around when she got to the kitchen; she could be back upstairs in less than five minutes. She opened the fridge, and began looking for a proper dessert.

"Oh, honey. Are you looking for some whipped cream?"

She turned around with a cold sigh, slamming the fridge door. Kellerman was wearing his habitual grin.

"I could actually have some myself, and I can think of something it would taste delicious on."

"Can you behave for like five minutes in your life?"

He arched a genuinely surprised brow. "You're not ignoring me?" Between what he'd pulled earlier this morning and the comment he'd just made about whipped cream, he expected she would.

She sighed again. "Look, Michael gave us his permission to be friends so congratulation, our friendship is blessed and official, it would really be great if you didn't ruin it right away –" At some point, she couldn't ignore his mocking laughter and grunted. "What?" 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, palms lifted up in a sign of good faith, "it's just, um – you're kind of a sucker."

She arched both eyebrows. "Well, Paul, you have three seconds to take that back." And if he didn't, she planned on slapping him and walking away proudly, or maybe starting another food fight, she hadn't made up her mind; although, after the whipped cream incident, food fights might be an extremely delicate matter concerning Paul Kellerman.

"I didn't mean it like that." He said. "It's just, I hope you realize Michael isn't doing you any favor, you do get that? You don't need your boyfriend's permission to be somebody's friend."

"Come on, you know it's more complicated than that. He's putting my happiness before his."

Kellerman held the smile, but didn't reply. "Does he really need to be a hero making a heroic sacrifice? Is that the kind of man it takes?"

"You wouldn't know."

"Maybe not," he said coldly, but his eyes were on fire, "but I do hope you're aware of how dominated that makes you. Maybe you're not against a bit of domination."

"I swear to god, Paul, I will dump your ass out this window."

"Relax, sweetheart. I'm joking." But according to his tone, they were both as serious.

"You've got a bad sense of humor." She replied, serious still – since recently, she found it extremely difficult not to be serious around Paul; she wasn't certain whether or not that was a good thing.

She turned back to the fridge, feeling frustrated and angry.

"What are you doing?" Kellerman asked; if only she could snatch that smirk right off his face.

"I'm trying to hurry." She added, knowing it would rile him up. "Michael is waiting for me."

He had spent the evening teasing her, expecting outrage, and now she obtained the reaction she was expecting as well. She grinned without humor or joy. It felt like evening the scores.

Paul's hands were fists in an instant. "Yes," he spoke, dangerously calm, "we wouldn't want to keep your boyfriend waiting. From what I'm seeing, you haven't kept him waiting too long. You've got a hickey just below your ear."

Sara let out a shocked breath and pressed her hand over her neck. "I do not." She retorted, "and jeez, I can't believe I'm actually having this argument."

"What are you still doing here, Sara? You don't want to keep baby Michael waiting, the poor child could not bear to be apart from his favorite Barbie for over ten minutes, I think he might cry."

"He's not like that at all!" She yelled. "Not that you would understand anything about that, but he's actually sweet, and kind, and tender!"

"I am certain he is." Kellerman said, his voice low and thick. "What I'm saying is that he is a _child_. You need a man."

Sara swallowed, but remained unable to answer. Her eyes were captured in his blue gaze, and she could feel her heartbeat increase as he stepped closer to her, and the atmosphere around them seemed to heat up.

This was wrong, there was no denying that anymore, still she was incapable of moving away.

"You look beautiful tonight, you know." He spoke, honey-soft, with a voice so deep it might as well have been coming from the devil, if the devil ever tried to seduce a woman. "Does your Michael ever tell you you're beautiful?" He wondered, and took a step closer – she took one back, her head hit the fridge, and she realized this was as far from him as she would go tonight, unless he chose to show mercy. "Does he ever tell you…" he whispered in her ear, his breath pervading the skin of her neck, until she was holding back a plaintive moan. "How sweet your kisses taste?" He went on in a breath, and smiled as he noted she had closed her eyes – he didn't want her to see it coming when he pulled away.

She opened her eyes, startled, as though disturbed by their broken proximity.

He smiled at her bewilderment, and continued calmly. "Actually, my dear, you have a strawberry kind of taste."

The second he started walking away, awfully smug and satisfied, she was hit by the realization that she should have done something – she should have pulled away. The damage was done, and Kellerman was more arrogant than ever when he turned towards her one last time, and grinned.

"And you do know what goes well with strawberries, don't you sweetheart? Whipped cream." He finished deviously.

…

"What took you so long?" Michael said, sitting on the bed. Then he saw the odd blank look on her face, and worried. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I mean – I'm sorry, I… I couldn't find the desserts."

He chuckled, too sweet for his own good. "What? That's okay."

"No, it's not." She countered, still reeling from what had happened in the kitchen. "You are so understandable, and selfless, and I do not deserve you."

"We're talking about dessert here, Sara. Wait," he went on, and furrowed his brows, "we are talking about dessert here, aren't we?"

She sighed, and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I – never mind."

She couldn't believe she hadn't pushed Paul away. She couldn't believe she had let him breathe down her neck, like a horny schoolgirl in search of new sensations, and most of all, she couldn't believe that he had left her feeling – unsatisfied.

Then half-aware, she started realizing Michael was trying to kiss her, which reminded her of what they had left unfinished this morning. And obliviously, she realized she felt more aroused than she had felt in weeks, and it was probably due to wrong reasons; now was as good a time as any other to stop thinking of Kellerman. Less perfect features, a more rugged handsomeness, and eyes blue enough to go mad –

A lustful sigh escaped her as Michael's kisses lowered down her stomach, and soon he was on his knees and pushing up her shirt. It was all right, she told herself, Paul was still on her mind, but he was in a closed drawer which she didn't have to take care of at the moment, and Michael could have her full attention.

She was momentarily distracted by the sound of laughter, coming from her boyfriend. She felt him grin against the flat skin of her stomach, and he joked. "Should I check the closets?"

…

Sara turned around in bed a few times that morning, waking up slow and easy, before she would have to open her eyes. She let a wide smile enlarge her lips to let the man next to her know she was awake, and felt a chill run over her naked body, only covered in a thin sheet, as if an aftermath-pleasure coming a few hours late… she'd always loved to wake up in that state, a kind of post-making-love comfort.

The best of it, of course, was to be at the side of the man she loved, the man who had stood by her through anything –

"Good morning."

Her eyes opened wide, panic crept in, and she literally jumped off the bed, holding the sheet around her so tightly her knuckles were turning white. "Oh my god. _Oh_ my god!" She said again, grazing cardiac arrest. "_What_ are you doing in this bed?"

Kellerman laughed, but she didn't drop her wariness; despite that grin, he was as dangerous as a loose tiger. "Relax, sweetheart, I promise I didn't peek."

"This isn't real. You're a nightmare come true."

"It's nice to know you dream of me."

She pinched her lips as tightly as she could, and spoke in a cold voice. "Where is Michael?"

Kellerman shrugged, but got the message; that was enough emotions for one morning. "See for yourself." He waved his head towards a paper, which lay on the beside table.

Sara took the post-it note in one hand, careful not to let go of the sheet with the other.

_I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to say goodbye, but I didn't want to wake you, and I had to hurry. Buffy sent me on an assignment to recruit some people that are very much needed for a situation, I will be back tomorrow_

_I love you_

_Michael_

"What?" Sara said, outraged. "And he didn't even say _goodbye_?"

"Yes." Kellerman feigned to share her thoughts. "I thought it rude as well," he shook his head in a reprobating way, "leaving a gorgeous woman to wake up alone… Anyway, I was glad to find you alone this morning, and when I walked in, well –" He smirked. "I'll admit, I just couldn't resist."

She glared at him, serious as hell. "So you decided to snuggle against me in my sleep? I'll have you know that taking advantage of a sleeping woman is a severely punished crime."

"Hey, I didn't even lift the sheets to take a look." His grin gave him away. "All right, a little, but it was already halfway down."

"Oh! Get out, you pervert!"

"Come on, that was a joke." He made his way towards the door still, but turned around with one last comment. "And by the way, my darling, you snore."

She let out an exasperated sigh as he closed the door behind him. She got dressed quickly, and made it light enough; today was going to be a hot day, nearing a hundred degrees, and regardless of who was going to be looking at her, she couldn't afford to be picky.

She sighed at her reflection, still taken aback. She couldn't believe Michael had left without a word, and besides, his assignment could be dangerous.

She went downstairs, looking for Buffy; she found her in the kitchen, with a cup of coffee in hand.

"Where did you send Michael?" She asked, and only realized afterwards that she'd skipped the small talk.

Buffy put down her drink. "Don't worry, he's perfectly safe. I've sent him with a few of my people, we're only trying to recruit some witches that Willow heard about, not far from here. If you really want to know the truth, I only asked Michael because he's good with people, and he's cute. Believe it or not, that helps when you're recruiting."

"So you're saying he'll be okay?"

"Yes." Buffy said without stalling, and Sara nodded, relieved.

"Well, hum – can I call him?"

"The team is going to call me around noon for a report, I can put him on the phone then. It's only a couple of hours."

"Yeah, okay." Sara nodded, and then only made a slight polite smile before she went out to the field.

She would miss him, she thought, but with a hint of guilt, because it wasn't the only thing that troubled her. Maybe she was scared of Kellerman's influence on her, scared that she wouldn't be able to run to her boyfriend to remember she had one, scared that twenty hours alone with Paul would be the end of her resistance.

Relax, she thought to herself; it was only one day, she was an independent woman, she could survive one day alone, with or without men. What scared her was, she wouldn't be alone.

It was only ten a.m. and the heat outside was already insufferable. All the women in the field were wearing shirts, and tops that didn't look like much more than bras, and more than half the men weren't wearing shirts –

"Now, I bet you were thinking about me."

She turned around to face the smug grin on Kellerman's lips. He was shirtless too, and his body was more muscular than she would have thought – of course, he would have had to keep in shape, being an agent and all, still the insinuated strength in her upper body hit her with some kind of heat-impression. He was strong, she had acknowledged that many times before; strong enough to stifle her protests.

Stop staring, a mental voice ordered right away, because he had to have noticed, and he had to be enjoying this way too much. She lifted her eyes back to him, trying to look as natural as one can be. "Hello, Paul." She congratulated herself for the casualness in her tone. "I hadn't recognized you without your shirt."

"Well, since I saw so much of you this morning, I thought I'd even the scores."

She didn't have anything to retort, so she only turned away.

"Come on, princess, are you really mad at me?"

She turned around in outrage. "You sneaked in my bed while I was naked."

"Really, it's not like that." He said, knowing she wouldn't believe a word of it. "I was just so worn out, and sleeping on the floor, and that bed is way too large for one tiny person like yourself."

"Then next time, sleep on the floor, and I won't be mad at you."

"Understood." He spoke seriously, and she tried to assess his words. He had to be lying. "Anyway, we should start training any time, now. Locking yourself with your boyfriend all day long won't make you get any better."

"There's no way we're practicing together."

"That was not a question, sweetheart." He said firmly. "I care about you far too much to let you go to war untrained."

"Well, what will you do? It's not like you can make me." She regretted those words the second she said them.

The next second, he was already sweeping her from the ground and carrying her to the middle of the field, ignoring her protests and creative insults meant to distract him. He put her back on her feet once they were standing near the weaponry.

"Well, what should we start with? Crossbow, or something more _sweaty_? I enjoy both, it's really up to you."

"Listen to me, you caveman, you might think that when Michael isn't around, you're free to do anything you want –"

"I don't think that at all, actually. It would imply that I'm afraid to do what I want with Michael around, and that's not really the case. I think I can really do anything I want with you with, or without Michael around."

She sighed, and closed her eyes. "My god, Paul, grow up."

"You're the one who is acting immature now, sweetheart." He said, and suddenly his eyes were detailing her from bottom to top; it felt like being dipped feet first into a hot and smooth substance; she didn't dare think the words 'whipped cream'.

He only finished when his eyes had reached the level of hers. "At least _I_ know what I want."

Her mouth suddenly felt too dry. She was in control of her body. Kellerman was not in control of her body. She thought of the words on and on, like a kind of brainwash.

"So," he went on, "it looks as though we're going to get physical anyway, just pick your poison. Bow or sword?"

She clenched her teeth when she realized he was not going to let her get a say in this. "Sword." She said coldly, and with as much strength as she could summon.

He threw her a slim blade aptly, and picked one for himself. "Interesting choice," he observed, "given last time, you proved to be quite a mess… yet again, it's what you're bad at that you should practice the most, is it not? There are so many things I could teach you, Sara, half of which you couldn't dream of."

He faced her and she raised her sword, only half hopeful when she asked. "Do you promise to play fair?"

"No."

...

Sara barely managed to block his sword this time. "You know, maybe you should slow down a bit." She did her best not to pant the words. "I mean, exactly when did you intend to stop your sword before it cut off my head?" She allowed herself to sound nervous, but not scared.

"It won't," Paul answered, "there's an invisible shield around it, remember?" He struck again, and Sara had to lean backwards to dodge the hit.

"I mean it, Paul. I need a break. The heat is insufferable, and we've been at it for an hour."

He laughed. "And did you think the war would be settled in an hour? You've got some catching up to do, princess."

She got back on her feet and rubbed a particularly raw area in her neck. "I won't even be in the war." She mumbled. "I'll be safely locked away in the infirmary."

"You mean the way you were safe when the riots took place in Fox River?" He replied, and regretted the words when he saw the look on her face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have."

"It's fine." She interrupted, not dry but firm. "Let's just take a break, all right?"

He could hardly say no to her now, and so they both sat on the bench and caught their breaths. "Look," he said after a moment of silence, "I meant to apologize for this morning. I am sorry I sneaked in your room, I was totally out of line."

She arched a brow with irony. "You think?"

"Well, I said I was. But come on, I didn't even cast a look, and that takes major self-control. You were naked, I'll have you know."

"I'm aware that I was naked, Paul, if you didn't want to be tempted, you shouldn't have sought the temptation. Were you expecting a medal for behavior?"

"Well, not a medal." He muttered.

She failed not to smile. "It's precisely why it was inappropriate in the first place."

"Okay," he conceded, "I'll agree it was a little inappropriate, but I do swear that my intentions were honorable from the start."

"Sure." She said with an eye-roll.

"Honestly, I saw Michael running down the stairs, looking upset, and I thought you might have been left crying alone again. Then I realized you were naked, and –"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can guess the rest. Besides, it's not like the last time you came in my room to check on me ended so well."

She wished back the last part of her sentence almost immediately. The last thing she wanted was to bring up what she'd confessed… what they hadn't yet discussed.

Fortunately, he didn't insist. "I just thought you might need a shoulder to cry on." He said. "But as I said, you were naked, and there was this huge space next to you… it was impossible to resist."

"It's always possible to resist, Paul, it's the point of temptation."

"Right, with the apple and all. The forbidden fruit." He rephrased, and it made Sara uncomfortable for some reason.

"Anyway," she said, "we've caught enough of a break, haven't we?"

But he didn't seem to have heard. "I really don't get why it is such a severely punished crime. Do you think it's because the fruit is forbidden that we want it, or is it because it is more beautiful than any of those we can eat?"

She swallowed. "I don't know, it's a metaphor." Then a silence set in, and they only looked at each other for a while, until the young woman wondered, out of the blues. "Can I ask you one question?"

"What?"

"You were never gay, were you?"

Kellerman only answered with a grin. From all the questions he was expecting, this was not one of them. But then she laughed too, and he thought she looked almost exactly as she did when they had sat on the steps of a church, and shared a blueberry pie. Sometimes, he thought that from the start, he should have known.

"Sara?" The voice startled both of them.

The young woman unhooked her eyes from Kellerman to meet Buffy's gaze. The short blonde was looking puzzled, and holding a cell phone in her hand.

_Michael_, Sara thought, guilt surging it at speed-light. She couldn't believe how she had completely stopped thinking about him this past hour.

She got up from the bench like a spring, and almost ran towards the phone in Buffy's hand. She went upstairs to take it, and locked herself in the bathroom; she didn't trust her bedroom for privacy anymore.

"Michael?" She finally picked up.

"Sara, it's amazing to hear your voice."

She sighed. Just to hear him brought her back to reality. She wasn't some rugged ex-spy's girl.

"How are you?" She asked.

"I'm all right. Look, you can't imagine how sorry I was to leave you without a word –"

"It's okay, Buffy explained. Are you with a whole crew?"

"Yeah, Linc is here, so are Willow and Cordelia. There's also this man, I don't know him too much, I think his name is Damon."

"I've met him. So, when should I be expecting you tomorrow?"

He hesitated shortly. "About that, I think I might be gone a little longer."

"What?" She frowned, a hint of panic rising within her. "How much longer?"

"A week at most."

"A week!"

"I'll miss you too, honey, but there's really nothing I can do."

Sara remained speechless. She couldn't last a week like this; without Michael there to remind her of her own choices, without Lincoln to be her conscience, how was she supposed to deal with Kellerman being shirtless half of the time and this overwhelming heat?

"It'll be over before you know it, honey, I swear. Look, I can't stay on the phone for long."

"But Michael –"

"I'm sorry, I love you sweetie."

"Don't you hang up –" She let out a frustrated sigh when she realized he had. She slammed the bathroom door on her way out, walked to the living room, and put the cell phone back on the table almost brutally.

"Hey." That low tone sounded behind her. "Easy, tiger, that phone has done nothing to you." She was only grateful to notice he had put his shirt back on. "What is it?" Kellerman asked, almost too sweet. "Is it Michael?"

Sara sighed. "He said he wouldn't be back until next week."

A sliver of excitement gleamed in his eyes. Where she saw despair, he saw something far more dangerous: an opportunity. How many days had he dreamed that Scofield would be out of the picture, if only for a few days? Yes; a few days would be enough. How many nights had he spent, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, because the thought of Michael sleeping next to her drove him mad? Most importantly – how many times had the boyfriend reeled this woman backed to him, every time he almost managed to make her his? For a week at least, there would be no more of that.

Kellerman really had to make an effort to hold back a grin. It was wicked, this much was true, but to play fair while the boy was away would have been the right thing to do, and good guys finish last.

"That is awful." He said, sounding so genuinely outraged she only knew he was lying because this statement was out of character. "I'm sorry, truly."

Sara sighed, annoyed. "No you're not."

"No I'm not." He agreed. "Could I get you something to eat?"

"Thank you, I think I'll shower first."

"Sticky and sweaty from what we've been doing this morning?"

"Don't get cocky, Kellerman, the heat's to blame."

"There was the heat." He conceded, and grinned when she climbed up the stairs. "Have a nice shower. And by the way, I would recommend some cold water."

She rolled her eyes before disappearing upstairs. His eyes followed her until she was out of his sight, and the grin didn't fade one bit.

Kellerman let out a pensive exhale before he grabbed an apple from the fruit basket, which lay on the counter, and took a large bite.

The forbidden fruit. His favorite kind.

…

Sara felt a chill run over her when the cold water met her skin. At this moment, she made the inward vow that Paul would never know she had taken his advice, but she did enjoy cooling down from the suffocating heat. After a moment, she turned off the tap, dried herself and quickly put on some fresh clothes, before she got back to the living room.

It was crowded at this time of day, and she merely grabbed a plate of egg salad and some cold rice before going back to her room, for a bit of intimacy. The hardcore training this morning had worked up her appetite, and she finished her meal in less than fifteen minutes. She put the carton plate and plastic fork and knife in the trashcan, and barely had time to get comfortable before knocks were pounded on the door.

"Who's there?" She shouted.

"Are you genuinely asking?"

She couldn't hold back a smile. "Get away, Paul." She said for good measure.

"Come on now, I've brought some whipped cream."

"Go to hell!"

"I would, but it's awfully boring without you. So, will you let me in or should I kick the door down?"

She hesitated only a split second, before she finally got up to open the door. Kellerman only paused a second to smirk, before he walked past her and lay down on the bed.

She let out a shocked breath. "Make yourself at home while you're at it."

"I intend to."

She rolled her eyes but ignored him, and sat at his side on the bed. "You could at least leave me more room." She whined.

"As you wish, but just in case it's not clear, you're more than welcome on my side." He smiled when she put on her lap a pot of vanilla ice cream she had brought from downstairs, and began lifting the lid. "Would you pass me a spoon?"

"No." She shrugged, almost not visibly playful. "I don't share my food."

He did enjoy discovering this almost childish side of her, it made him feel as though he was gazing upon uncharted territory, one perhaps even Scofield didn't see much of. It oddly felt to him as though it was a demonstration of her trust. The proof that she had gotten to know him again, and was willing to let him know her.

He loved every bit of what he discovered.

"Oh you don't, don't you? Well, what if I say pretty please?"

"If you wanted ice cream you should have brought your own, it's as simple as this, Paul."

"Oh I see, you're still mad about this morning." But now, he thought to himself, she was just pushing it. He shrugged, and went on with a remarkable seriousness. "Well you know, if you won't play fair, sweetheart, I won't either."

"Really? Because you consider that so far, what you've been doing has been fair play?"

"Absolutely, my dear. You've never seen me not playing fair."

"Now, you've made me curious."

He smiled, and took his time to pursue. "Well you see, not playing fair would be mentioning to your boyfriend all of these little things that he doesn't know about."

He watched Sara swallow her spoonful of ice cream coyly. "Like what?" She asked with audible worry.

"Well," he feigned casualness, "I don't know. What happened yesterday, in the kitchen. Or this very special something you said to me, the other night –"

"The ice cream is yours." She nearly through the pot on his lap. He couldn't stop laughing for over thirty seconds, and she sighed in defeat. "By now, I should know better than to play games with you."

"It's not your fault, honey. Really. No one plays better than me."

...

"Shouldn't we be back at the field?"

"Are you kidding?" Sara said, looking at Kellerman as though he were mad. "The only thing we'll be able to do outside is melt."

"You mind the heat?"

Sara said nothing. Truth was she did mind, a little; it reminded her of the Fox River riots.

"Well," Kellerman changed subject, "what else are we supposed to do then? I mean, I get you'll think I'm a jerk for making suggestions, but we're both alone in a bedroom with a scorching heat outside, and we're in need to kill some time. Yes, I can think of a few things."

She rolled her eyes, but didn't pay much more attention to it; her attention was something he craved so much, he actually almost felt annoyed. He shook away the thought. "Well," he tried to come up with something fun, "we could try one of those games they play in college. We could play dare or truth."

"Seriously?" She mocked. "I haven't played since high school."

"Exactly, it'll be fun." He sat on the bed, deciding not to leave her much more of a say in this. He smirked when she realized he was serious. "Dare or truth?" He asked.

She remained frozen for a second, wondering whether she should be more worried about his truths or his dares.

"Truth."

"Perfect. Now remember, no lying."

She swallowed, and began to wonder whether this was a good idea. Kellerman pondered for a minute, before deciding that he'd go easy – at first. "Why did you take a job inside a male prison? Considering the risks, I mean."

She thought about it quietly, but looked slightly relieved. "Well, you know, I wasn't a perfect citizen. I'd stolen drugs from my own hospitals, and despite my father's influence, not many people would have hired me. And well, I thought it would be logical to help people who weren't perfect citizens either." She paused for a second before she confessed. "It was mostly to annoy my dad."

He laughed, but she remained serious.

"Or to see whether I'd finally get his attention, I don't know."

"He must have gone out of his mind when you told him."

"You can't imagine." She shook her head, and turned more serious as she looked at him. "It's your turn." She pointed out. "Dare or truth?"

"Truth."

She let out a sigh. "Well, remember you started asking about jobs. Why did you choose to do become a spy?"

"The term we use is secret agent." She gave him a look that indicated he was fleeing the question, and he sighed and answered pensively. "I was eighteen." He recalled. "I thought I could make a difference in the world, so I fought for my beliefs until I realized I was fighting for things in which I no longer believed." He paused for a second. "You were the cause of that."

His gaze was intense on her, but she didn't blush. She only asked. "Why?"

He shrugged, but didn't break eye-contact with her. "I guess it was because, from the second I met you, I thought of leading a different life. It made me step out from my professional routine, and made me realize I could no longer see a big picture worthy of the wrong that was done. I used to think of it of casualties."

Sara swallowed, but said nothing. It's probably what she was, at the start; a casualty.

"Well," he spoke again before her mood could grim, "it's your turn again. You've already said truth, so you have to say dare."

She hesitated a second, then let out a dim chuckle of disbelief, before playing along without much enthusiasm. "Fine, dare."

Despite it, he remained serious and almost managed not to smile. "I dare you to dance with me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? With what music? And since when do you dance?"

He leant towards the bedside table to switch on the music channel on the radio before answering. "This will be the music," he said, "and if you want to know, I can dance since my third mission. The parties I went to undercover required dancing, and stalling won't get you anywhere Tancredi." He pointed out, too serious to even sound amused.

He extended his hand, and smiled when she visibly hesitated. "Come on, sweetheart, dancing is not cheating." But it was out of line, even he was aware of that.

She got up with an eye-roll–it had to be her tenth that day–before she finally slid her hand in his palm, and his second locked around her waist.

"I don't know how to do this." She excused.

"It's fine. Put your hand around my neck."

She blushed complying, and tried not to notice the smirk showing on his face. "You're taking advantage of this."

"A little." He admitted. "Now, just follow my lead."

She really thought this would be awkward, but it wasn't; it actually felt nice. She laughed from time to time to time, when he would spin her around and bring her back against his chest overly fast, or when an exaggerated grin would stretch his lips.

"Well," she said after a while, unwillingly serious, "you're really good at this."

"I told you I had many things to teach you." He leant her down smoothly, leaning over her to hold her still, as he kept her from falling. This was perhaps the first bit of trust she granted him, since she had let him share a meal inside her home. "You're not so bad yourself." He added, his tone low and serious.

Her hand was still wrapped around his neck, and the one he had secured over her back felt steady and firm. "I have a great teacher." She said for a justification, unable to tear away from his eyes.

He hesitated a few seconds, before he leant in to kiss her.

"Don't." She whispered, a second before their lips met. She only half expected him to actually stop, but he did, freezing a few inches away from her face. "We can't do this." She said; it felt like speaking against her will.

She could tell he was angry, it showed on his face, but he visibly tried to control his voice. "Why not?" He asked, before lifting her up and letting her go.

"You know why not. I'm with Michael, Paul, you can't just kiss me whenever you feel like it."

"Well, then why aren't you with me instead of him?"

The question surprised her so she was unable to reply for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Are you with him because you want to spend the rest of your life with him, or because you made a promise and wish to honor it?"

"That's not fair." She spoke, immediately cold. "You know I love him."

"I know you love me." He only said and she looked away, furious.

"You know what?" She turned back to him. "I only said that so you would let me go."

"I don't think you believe that."

She didn't answer, angry still.

"You want to know what I think?" He went on. "I think you're taking the easy way out."

"There is no easy way out for me, Kellerman!"

"You stay with him because it is easier, because you're afraid that I want to be with you."

"And why would that scare me?"

"Because you want to be with me too!" He sounded as furious as her, and a sliver of rage made his blue gaze look mad; this was him losing his temper again, but it didn't occur to her to be afraid. "I think you know it." He finished.

She shrugged, and put ice in her voice. "Well, what do you want me to do? I'm stuck, Paul! Whatever it is I choose, somebody will get hurt!"

"Then stop thinking about what everybody wants! Forget Michael, forget me, forget Lincoln and just be honest with yourself, for one second." He was still angry, but slightly calmer. "What do you want?" He asked, and she looked away angrily. "If it's him you want, then I'll let you both live your lives happily ever after. I already offered to leave, remember?" He paused when she said nothing, and wondered. "Why did you ask me to stay, Sara?"

"Because I was going mad without you, is that what you want to hear?" She spoke dryly. "Very well, I'll confess: I can't lose you. I'd rather admit it than give in to it."

"You know, I used to think you were a weakness too." He said on the same tone. "I even wished you'd die so I'd be free from you."

She didn't think it'd hurt to hear him say something like this, not after everything they had been through, but it actually brought her to the verge of tears.

"But I'd gotten it all wrong, sweetheart." He shook his head. "You're my strength. You fixed me."

She pinched her lips together. He sounded more honest than he ever had before. "I can't, Paul." She only said. "I don't want to listen anymore."

But he didn't take mercy on her; not this time. Instead he looked at her with all the seriousness in the world, and accused. "You're the liar, Sara. You lie to Michael, you lie to me, and you're lying to yourself."

"I'm not lying!"

"Then say you don't love me again and look at me this time. Look at me." He commanded, and when she obeyed she was incapable of making a sound.

She had to be strong, she thought to herself, for Michael and for her, she couldn't let Kellerman get his way when Mike had only been gone a day – but then she realized that whether Michael was gone or not didn't change anything. It didn't change anything if he was in the next room, or half the world away. Because when she was alone with Paul, she forgot the rest.

She needed to do this now, she needed to hurt him for both her sake and his. But she never wanted to hurt him; she just wanted to make him happy. She wanted him to get his way, so that he would feel whole, as she did when she was with him. This man was a killer and a torturer, she had almost experienced both, but she wanted to make him feel loved for the first time in his life – she wanted to fix him. And maybe, he could fix her. But she couldn't tell him this without there being consequences, and she wouldn't be able to face them.

So she thought of Michael, and her heart filled with self-hatred when she failed to remember how much she loved him, and she hated herself even more when she realized she had to force Michael into her mind, and Kellerman out of it. She wondered if it was how love was supposed to be. She thought of Fox River, how strong he looked when he had grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the fire, during the riot; she remembered all of the moments when she had been sure to love him. When he had kissed her, in the infirmary; her twenty-ninth birthday, and the origami rose.

It was different with Paul. Her feelings for him didn't even seem romantic somehow; he hadn't gently stolen her heart, as Michael had. It was more like a need. Something that nobody in this world would understand, because they had never felt it back. With Paul, she didn't have to talk or explain, she didn't have to say the words, because the connection between them was too strong to be a one way thing. From now on, it would have to be.

Her eyes remained set on his, and for the first time in her life, she pulled a decent lie. "I don't love you." She said calmly, breaking her own heart hurting him.

He looked at her for a moment, an impassive mask on his face that she knew all too well. Seconds passed, and Sara could hear her last sentence echoing in her brain loud enough to make her dizzy. Paul looked at her, and he just said one word.

"Liar."

And his hands brought her face to him and he kissed her.


	19. Chapter 19

_'__Oh my love, I just want to make you mine'_

_Niki Haris_

His tongue entered her mouth almost ferociously, more demanding than ever. Sara was uncertain if his hands on her cheeks were meant to prevent her from resisting, which she did at first, but then his kiss gentled and she just didn't have the will to fight it anymore. Kissing him again brought back all of the emotions she had felt when they had kissed in that same room, a few days ago; then, it was to discover each other, to make sure that these feelings were real for them both. Now it was merely about releasing the passion they had tried to repress, stopping to fight the attraction that they had both known was there, and losing control.

His hands lost their grip on her when he understood she wouldn't be fighting him. He let his fingers wander on her skin, trying to feel her, trying to get as much as possible from this moment. Sensing her respond to his kiss was almost too much satisfaction for him to hold it in, and he half-consciously worried he would smother her with desire – he knew they both couldn't deny what was between them anymore. He grinned against her lips at the thought; this time, she wouldn't get away so easily.

And she wouldn't. Right now she knew, she just knew that not much mattered in life next to such intense emotions, that the thought of breaking her boyfriend's heart broke hers, because she loved Michael very much. But there was a man sliding his hand through her hair and his tongue in her mouth, and she needed him. And there was no point in denying it, and suddenly it didn't make sense to try to fight this one day at a time, to stay close to Michael by fear of landing alone in the same room as Kellerman; spending her life trying to make him leave her mind seemed tiring, and right now it felt like there were better ways to live. Simpler ways. Maybe she could have taken the suffering anyway, for Michael's sake or Lincoln's, or even her dead father's, who would have hated to see her with either an ex-convict or an ex-spy, but probably would have liked the convict better. But this, with Paul – it was her fate. Her thoughts would always go back to him, and so would she.

"I love you." She managed against his lips.

"Wait, say that again?" But he didn't get the chance to say much more before her lips came crashing his, swallowing the reply that had been on his lips since what felt like forever.

She loved him, she had said so, and this time he hadn't made her. Oh, she would not get away with this, he would not let her use excuses or show mercy this time. He wanted to say that he loved her too, that he loved her so much it had consumed him, but her lips were too decided for him to even pretend to resist.

He wanted to feel every inch of her skin with his fingers, and taste that strawberry-flavored skin.

Sara felt his lips part from hers and lower to her jaw-line, then down her throat, before they travelled up to her ear.

Now, that was cheating.

And there went all her proclamations about not having an ear thing, Kellerman thought, smiling against her earlobe. She let out a moan that filled him with a surprising arousal, and every one of his senses felt a hundred times more aware.

She realized despite herself how far the situation had gone when he pushed her on the bed.

Her body screamed to let him do whatever he intended to do, but deep down a voice within her whispered she didn't want this to happen right now, not when she was still with Michael and this was wrong, even though it felt right.

"Paul, we can't –"

He hushed her with a kiss, stealing her words and her breath. Then he went back to her ear, and his fists were closed firmly onto her wrists – he was in control, and anyway what he was doing to her earlobe right now discouraged her from reluctance.

"Stop thinking, Sara," he breathed, "for one moment in your life."

She didn't reply anything, her breathing out of control. Kellerman cautiously let go of her wrist to discover her body, too clothed to his liking, but it was the luckiest he had ever gotten or hoped to get. He dared a hand beneath her shirt, and a new surge of desire hit him when she moaned again; to be touching only her stomach felt like the most erotic experience of his life, and without thinking he went up to her bra, and used his other hand to unbutton her jeans.

It _really_ felt like she had to stop him now.

"Paul," she attempted again, trying to summon calm.

"Don't think, baby," he hushed her again, and pressed his lips to random spots in her neck, "it's okay, Michael never has to know."

And in an instant, Sara felt as though a bucket of iced water had been thrown at her to replace the raging heat. She pushed Kellerman's hands off her brutally, and he was too surprised to stop her from getting up. She got away from the bed as quickly as she could, leaving him lost in the sensations he discovering a moment ago.

"Michael never has to _know_?" She repeated. "After everything we've been through, you just think of this as a one-time thing so you can get me out of your system?"

"What? Of course not, Sara, I just thought you wouldn't want him to –"

"Because you would be okay with that? Is that all you were after, all this time? What you were waiting for to move on and forget about me?"

"I would never, don't be ridiculous."

But she just shook her head, and let out a joyless laugh. "You're right, Paul, I really am a sucker."

She aimed for the door and it pulled him from his startle. "Wait!" He yelled, getting up. "You don't get to just walk away, I'm sorry –"

And he did feel sorry. He felt so sorry it seemed that all he would do in this life wouldn't matter if he didn't do everything in his power to make her stay now.

"Please," he closed a hand on her forearm and said, out of excuse. "You said you loved me."

She turned back to him, and the beautiful strength in her delicate face made him think he must have been blind to ever hurt her.

"You never did." She replied, and she was gone in a flash of red hair.

Her last words left him out of breath. She was right, he hadn't; he had basically forced those three words out of her mouth, and he had never actually thought about how she felt and he had never…

His own stupidity struck him cold. He had _had_ her. She was in his arms, she was letting him kiss her and do all kinds of things to her, and he had ruined it all. Like he did every time.

…

Sara ran down the stairs. She could not believe she had allowed this to happen, and she couldn't believe it had happened period. Right now, she just wanted to run away from this house and this war and everything she loved, and start over alone.

She couldn't believe she had let Paul kiss her. She couldn't believe she had kissed him _back_, which was… good, okay, but she couldn't believe she had been stupid enough to tell him she loved him. And she simply couldn't believe that this was the only thing he had been after all this time.

She could still feel the sensation of his hands on her, like a ghost's touch, up her stomach and up her throat.

She shook her head. She needed some alone time, and she needed silence.

The house was crowded, so she went down to the field, doubting anyone would be crazy enough to practice under that heat. She really thought the garden would be deserted when she got there, but she just spotted that one girl she had talked with many times over the past weeks, sitting on one of the benches, with her face buried in her hands.

Elena Gilbert.

"Hey," Sara said cautiously – god, that doctor tone was coming back so fast – "Are you all right and all?" She asked.

"Sure," Elena said, lifting her face from her hands as soon as she spotted the young woman. "I mean, it's okay, I don't want to bother you with my problems."

"Oh, are you sure? It would give me a break from my problems." And that would be really nice.

"Well…" Elena said, still hesitant. "It's just that Buffy sent Damon away, so – this whole thing, this house, it just feels empty now."

"Oh." Sara let out when she got it. She sat next to the girl and blamed her blushing on the heat. "I know the feeling."

"You know, it's just I really shouldn't miss him –" She shook her head. "You must be in the same situation I'm in anyway, I heard they sent Michael away too."

Sara blushed furthermore. "Yes, totally." She agreed before changing subject. "But hum… I don't mean to pry, but weren't you with that – vampire," the word was still weird to say for some reason, "the one that is fighting against us?"

"Yes, that would be Damon's brother."

"_Oh_." Sara repeated.

"Oh my god, this is embarrassing, now you have to bother me with your problems so this is at least reciprocate."

"No, really that's –" That's PG 13 she almost added, but then realized Elena wasn't thirteen anyway, and there were both involved in the same war, which was a major problem, so they might as well share their minor problems. "OK, well, there are those two guys, and they hate each other, but I don't, and – I'm with Michael, anyway, and he would go crazy right now if he could see me having this conversation."

"Oh, well." Elena said, and it felt slightly awkward to Sara to think that she would be getting advice from a fresh young adult who was probably still used to teenage romance, and even more awkward to realize that her romance triangle wasn't actually that different. "You know," Elena went on, "there's just a certain type of love that never dies. If you love them both, just try to figure out which one it is."

"But I'm not even sure he loves me." Sara let out, almost unaware she was actually talking to someone right now. "How could I, after everything."

"Well, I don't know about everything." Elena said apologetically. "What I do know is I dreamed to fall in love with someone hot and evil, until I did. Would your bad guy be the attractive one who I caught staring at you, at the field, on the day we met?"

"That would be him." Sara confirmed.

"OK. Well, you know, you could always marry one and sleep with the other."

"Hey!" Sara protested; that advice was definitely PG 13.

…

"Okay so let me get this straight," Sara said, puzzled. "Damon killed your mother?"

"Well _no_, he turned her into a vampire."

"What? Damon is a vampire?"

"Of course. Anyway, how about you tell me about what is the most recent problem with you and that hot evil guy?"

"Oh no, you're definitely too young to hear it." But then she saw the outraged look on Elena's face and gave in. "OK, let's say I'm not sure what he wants from me."

"Yeah. You mean, does he really want you, or is he only searching for a thrill, is he simply attracted to you because you push him away? Is it the game he is interested in, or is he in it for real, is he involved or is he committed?"

"Exactly!" Sara said, unable not to sound enthusiastic. "And with Michael, I just – this isn't helping, that he's away."

"I know, having Damon away isn't either. I'm just coming to the conclusion that I miss him more than I should."

Sara said nothing. Deep down, she knew she didn't miss Michael as much as she should, and she feared she didn't need him to come back for the right reasons.

"You know what?" Elena said, struck by the idea. "We should just make a list, pros and cons. Name one good reason why you shouldn't be with Michael."

Oh, so this was how teenagers did it these days? Then again, Sara thought she wasn't so much in the position to judge, given teenagers still probably didn't almost have sex with men who weren't there boyfriends, after said boyfriend had been gone for a day.

"OK." Sara gave in again, slightly hesitating. "Well, there is the fact that he's always asking of me to put him first."

"Uh-hum. Now how about Paul?"

"I could list them all day." Sara sighed.

Where should she put the fact that he had slapped her, more than once, number two or three? Perhaps just behind the torture, and above that the near-drowning experience. There ought to be the fact that he had basically delivered her to a rapist sociopath up there too.

"Come on, give me some about Damon." Sara said, only to change subject, because asking felt a bit childish to her.

But then Elena blushed, uttered a "Hum…" and did not answer either. In her mind, she was listing the fact that Damon had turned her mother into a walking dead, that he had tried to kill her brother and that he had bitten her more than once.

"Well you know," she said, "nothing worse than yours I'm sure."

"Sure." Sara said. But deep down, she was thinking that falling in love with a vampire while fighting a war against vampire-kind was a bit against nature. But then she thought that deep down, Elena was probably thinking that falling in love with an inmate when you're a prison doctor is too.

"You know," Sara went on, "I think this list is not a good idea."

"I think you're right."

Both women turned around when they heard footsteps down the steps that led to the house. They had been alone for a while now, and weren't expecting to get any company; it was still too hot to practice, and Sara didn't think people would start coming down before evening.

Then Elena spoke, pulling her from her thoughts. "Who do you think?" She said, oddly serious. "The good guy or the bad boy?"

Sara didn't get the chance to reply before Kellerman appeared down the steps, and his eyes found hers so quickly she thought there had to be a magnet there or something.

"Hi." He said, and she noticed despite herself that he probably felt stupid; she was a bit too angry to care. "Sara, could I talk to you?"

But instead of retorting something sharp, the young woman blushed at the remembrance of what had happened in her bedroom. My _god_, now she was starting to feel like girl in her teens.

"Well, I'll be on my way," Elena said, and Sara thought of stopping her but couldn't catch her voice. It was her doom, because soon she was alone with Paul again, and she couldn't think of how that would end.

Kellerman sighed when Elena had gone. "I know I'm an idiot most of the time, Sara, but please allow me to explain myself."

"You don't need to give me justifications." Sara got up from the bench, and used the excuse to look down.

She glanced at the stairs, but he didn't let her leave, and she didn't expect him. He took a step so that he was standing in the way of the exit.

"I hate myself, honey, right now. I'm sorry," he added, and since she didn't say anything, he went on. "What I said earlier, I didn't mean it the way it came out."

Sara didn't reply. She looked the opposite way like a sulking child, and she felt stupid because of that, but because of him she felt used, and she just wanted to know when or whether he was telling the truth. No man could make a lie sound truer than he could.

"I simply never even hoped that you could want more than sex from me, Sara."

"Right, play the victim." She said, annoyed. "Of course you knew I wanted more from you, I _told_ you."

"Well, I didn't understand how definitive that word was. I'm sorry, all right? I just wanted you so much, I – I couldn't stand the thought that you'd push me away. Okay, I'm a jerk, and I'm inexcusable, is that better?"

"A little."

"Don't think the idea of you with Michael doesn't kill me because it does, and don't think that I will ever stand to share you with another man, because I won't. But right at this moment, the idea of sharing you just seemed less bad than the idea of not having you at all. I'm sorry if that hurts you."

"You wouldn't know." She only said, and finally turned to face him as she continued. "But how am I supposed to believe you, Paul? If this is even a relationship that is going to work, how am I supposed to trust you?"

She could see the guilt in his eyes, but she didn't stop and got carried away.

"And how am I supposed to know if you stick around because you care about me, or just for the… you know."

Kellerman grinned at the sudden shyness in her tone. By god, if he could kiss that color in her cheek.

"What is so funny, you moron, I'm yelling at you!"

But as it turned out, Kellerman couldn't stop smiling, he could only look at her with a content look and love her more with every second that went by.

"This is just what I was saying, Paul! I'm trying to be mature, I'm trying to talk some sense into you and seriously discuss what chance we may have at a relationship, and all you can do is grin like an idiot and –"

He interrupted her the only way he could think of and kissed her. Her eyes widened with surprise, before closing obliviously. She wanted to push him off, she really did, because he was getting away with this way too easily, she didn't want him to act as though he could just kiss her and make everything okay. But he could, and that alone was worth all the pros she could name on a list.

Before Sara could react or reach for balance, he lifted her up and she let out a loud gasp of surprise; she had the time to hook an ankle around his hips before he pinned her into the cement wall of the house violently.

She felt dizzy when Kellerman tore from her lips, maybe from the heat or the lack of oxygen because she had forgotten to breathe; maybe just the fact that her legs were wrapped around Paul Kellerman's waist and he was pressing her into a wall.

"You know," she said, because this felt like a time as right as any other to point this out, "I meant what I said, earlier in the bedroom, we can't do this." He didn't reply or seem to hear her, and she was about to call him an immature idiot when he started kissing her neck, and by now she knew where he was going with this. "No, come on," she argued, "you're not allowed to do that, it's not fair, you – oh Paul."

The worst was, she could feel him grin against her skin, and he was probably very happy with her inability to concentrate, or even her current inability to remember her name. She sucked in air deep inside her lungs, in a vain attempt to control her breathing, but between what Kellerman was doing to her earlobe and the heat, she found it extremely difficult.

"Tell me he'll never touch you again." He said out of the blues, sounding hoarse and extremely serious. "You know who I'm talking about, honey. Promise me he'll never lay a finger on your body again."

Sara swallowed with difficulty, and locked her knee around his hips in an attempt to bring him closer.

"Promise me," he repeated, "because otherwise I'll just have to kidnap you, and lock you in a nice looking house in some remote sunny paradise, where I won't let any man ever come near you."

Sequestration was about the last thing he hadn't done to her, and given their history it really shouldn't sound good, but –

"Well…" She started, with no memory already of what she was supposed to say. She only knew that if he didn't start kissing her right now he was the meanest man on earth. Then he rocked his hips against her, and she expected it so little a sharp gasp escaped her. "I promise." She said, and then his lips found hers and she stopped thinking and drowned in the sensations.

Once again, like every time they had kissed, it felt as though this was a doorway on clarity, and finally the world seemed to make sense. It made a lot of sense to have sex with Kellerman against the wall of this house right now, where anybody might still come out of to find them here. It made sense because she was turned on and she wanted him, and it would make them both very happy. What didn't make sense would be to keep denying their attraction day after day, regardless of how much she loved Michael and Linc and all the wrong that Paul had done.

But of course, she suspected, or would have if she had been in her right mind, this view on things would probably be reversed the second Kellerman's mouth would leave her lips.

"I love you." She uttered against him, her breathing ragged. She said it for her more than for him, so that she would remember after the kiss, when doubt would come, that she did love him, and because she knew that he wouldn't let her forget it.

Then Kellerman pulled back suddenly to meet her eyes, because he had ruined things too many times not to at least make them clear, and because for fuck's sake, he had been meaning to say this since he could remember, and he would look her in the eyes saying it.

"I –"

But before he could add one more word, a sharp alarm sounded in the field.

Sara let out a shriek of surprise. "What is that?" She screamed, trying to dominate the sound.

The alarm didn't stop, and Paul thought that when he would find the source of the noise, he would kill it whoever it was.

"Paul?"

He looked around, as if the person responsible was just behind his shoulder.

"_Paul_?" Sara repeated. "Perhaps now you could…"

She didn't finish with '…_stop sandwiching me against this wall?_'

"Right," he said, stepping away to let her get back on her feet.

Sara's cheeks flushed when her knees quivered after touching ground, and she decided it was very dangerous to be alone with Paul in an isolated location. With the heat, the heat was responsible too.

"We should head upstairs, right?" Sara said. "Maybe there's something wrong."

"Yeah, you're right." He knew she felt embarrassed, he knew he should probably feel embarrassed too, but he didn't. He just felt like never letting her forget the promise she had made him.

They went upstairs without saying a word to each other, and realized that everyone was gathered in the living room.

"What's going on?" Sara asked, spotting Buffy in the center of the room.

"Where the hell were you guys?" Buffy said for a reply.

"In the field," Sara said, blushing of course.

"What?" Buffy frowned. "With that heat?"

"We were... training." She ultimately answered.

Buffy gave them a skeptical look but didn't insist. "Look, we've got a bit of a situation."

"What's the matter?" Paul asked, sounding bitter. It better be the hell of a problem, he thought, because it had cost him something he had been dreaming of for ages.

"Just don't freak out," Buffy said, which was hard to do since everyone in the room seemed to be freaking out. "There's a vampire inside the house, maybe more."

"What, how?" Sara said.

"We don't know."

Kellerman shrugged, and he had to be the only one who had not freaked out when Buffy had said: 'don't freak out'. "But I mean," he said casually, "it's just one vampire, right? How can we expect to get away with a war if we can't face one small vampire?" He didn't think it was a good enough reason for what the alarm had cost him.

"Because," Buffy answered, "at war we'll be prepared. There is nothing more dangerous than a vampire inside the house, because it can come back anytime it wants, and it can kill each of us one by one so slowly that we won't even noticed someone's missing.

Sara gulped. "Then why can't we freak out?"

"We're not sure what happened," Buffy said, "we only know that the spell Willow made was broken."

"So you're not sure there's someone inside the house?" Paul said, sounding so annoyed Sara would have elbowed him if she hadn't been panicking.

"If not who would have broken it?" Buffy replied.

Paul kept quiet. Still not a decent reason.

"Look," she went on, "I want everybody reunited right now, because I'm not letting a vampire kill my people behind my back."

"But wait," Sara remarked, "you said that the streets in Sunnydale were dangerous right now, and the only thing keeping us safe was that invisible spell thing –"

"It was," Buffy confirmed, before putting a stake inside Sara's hand. "Now that's the only thing that will keep you safe. All right, listen up!" She said to the whole room's attention. "Yes, there might be an intruder inside the house, we don't know what it is, all we know is that it happened ten minutes ago, so now I want all of you to take a weapon and get ready to defend yourself, all right? It won't be able to compel you, there's vervain in everything you've been drinking and eating these past months. All a vampire has against you is strength, but you've been getting ready to face that. We'll search the house by groups of five until we get the bastard, is that clear?"

"And what if we find him?" Sara recognized Elena's voice and she spotted her at the opposite side of the room.

"Then you take down your first vampire," Buffy answered.

"This is a nightmare," Sara whispered to herself, because she didn't keep a very good memory of the last time she had faced a vampire.

Kellerman's palm came to rest on her shoulder and she put her hand on his without thinking. "You'll be okay," he said, "I wouldn't let anybody hurt you." Although, even if he was half joking when he had talked about kidnapping her to a sunny paradise, it didn't seem so bad right about now.

…

Sara and Paul teamed up with three other men and were assigned to search the attic; Sara wasn't too happy about that, because she thought it was about the creepiest room in any house, and that couldn't be good luck. The place was actually huge, covering the whole length of the house in a vast rectangle, filled with dark corners of course and spider webs, and many other things that made Sara feel nervous.

"It's probably nothing, you know." Kellerman said with this incredible confidence that only he owned. They had walked slightly in front of the three other members of the group, and he was glad for the short moment of privacy. "That witch girl's spell was probably weakened because she left, and a cat triggered it or something."

Sara nodded, appreciating at least the effort. "Yeah," she said, holding the stake tightly in her fist.

"So," Kellerman said with an exhale, and only he could bring this up at such a timing, "about earlier…"

"Now? You want to talk about that _now_?"

"I'm not the romantic kind."

"So I've noticed."

He feigned not to hear. "I'm not perfect Sara, I know I don't deserve you. But I won't share you."

Sara turned to him, and faced him for the first time since what had happened in the field. "You won't have to." She whispered softly.

He smiled, and he would have told her how much he loved her right now when he heard a sharp crack. He turned around immediately, putting Sara behind him protectively, the crossbow he held in his hand raised in front of him.

"Paul –"

"Stay back, Sara," he said.

That's all it took for the young woman to realize that this huge attic suddenly felt deserted.

"Paul, where is everyone?"

"Quiet." He said without sharpness, and he waited a second, waited for everything to be silent. "It's nothing," he said turning back at her, "I thought I heard something –"

The sound of a gunshot stole the rest of his breath and he fell to the floor.

Her own scream made Sara's blood run cold. She shouted Paul's name, but then felt a hand press against her mouth, another making her drop the stake on the floor. That's when she realized that the intruder in the house was made of living flesh. And war is not what they had come to seek. She attempted to scream again, but the cool steel of a gun was pressed to her cheek.

"Keep quiet, Sara. Don't make this difficult on yourself."

She recognized the voice of the man who was in the lodge with her and Kellerman. She tried to calm down, but that was impossible when all she could do was stare at Paul's body on the ground and wonder why he wasn't moving.

She tried to call his name reflexively. Mahone's hand still stopped her from making a sound.

"Listen to me, Sara," he spoke quietly, "you are going to remain extremely silent, or everybody in this house will die. Do you understand?"

She heard some more gun shots downstairs, and started to panic. She couldn't move her eyes from Kellerman. There was blood spreading from his shoulder, and that made her feel relieved because shoulder wounds weren't the worst – he had probably knocked himself out falling, that's why he wasn't moving. But she panicked still.

Mahone's hand left her mouth, but the gun against her cheek was enough of a motivation to obey on its own. "There's no point in screaming now, Sara," he said, "and for your own sake, you should follow me quietly."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she answered, crying silently.

"Yes you are," he replied very calmly, "and the sooner you accept that, the easier it will be, I assure you. We can do this nicely and nobody gets hurt, or we can take down everyone in this house, but either way, you're coming with us."

Sara stood very still. She wasn't stupid enough to fight against a gun, although if he hadn't shot her yet it did mean they needed her for something; and if they caught her again, she would be worse than dead.

She used her elbow to kick him in the stomach, and fell to her knees to Paul's side instead of making a run for the exit. She had to make sure he was all right before anything more happened. If she was taken today, then she had to know…

Mahone's fist pulled on her arm brutally, bringing her back to him, and he used the back of his gun to knock her out cold and she fell to the floor, next to the man who today had almost become her lover.

"The hard way it is." Mahone finished.

...

Sara woke up in the trunk of a car. Her hands were tied behind her back, and her legs were taped together. How she wished that today never happened. Right now, she would take back just about her whole life if it could mean she wouldn't have ended up here – the thought of being questioned again was pervasive, and it made her shake out of control or reason or any logical thing.

She summoned the strength to calm down, deep inside of her. She needed to think practically if she was going to get out of here. She could hardly see anything through the darkness of her prison, but the noises she could hear led her to think that they were on the road. Her head still hurt from the hit, but then she stopped thinking at once when she remembered the attic – the image of Paul getting shot burst into her mind.

She desperately tried to break the tape that bounded her hands together. She couldn't believe that the company had found them here, here of all places… She fought against her ties some more, skinning her wrists passing, but the tape won the fight. A feeling of despair came over her. She had some time to think, there was at least that. She thought about Michael; she wondered if he'd call off his mission to search for her, and she wondered what she would tell him if she ever saw him again. How do you tell someone that you're not completely his anymore? Then she thought about Paul...

She thought about how angry he'd be, and she was suddenly glad she had told him she loved him before this all happened. At least now there was no denial anymore, even though she didn't know what she would have done next, at least they had shared a moment that was only about them, and that would last forever if she were to die today. The thought felt surreal.

When a couple of hours had gone by, Sara tried to think about her life, a few months ago, before she met Michael or Paul. And oddly, it's at this moment precisely that she realized she had no regrets. Not about this life. Her only regret went to that little girl she dreamed about that Paul and her would never have.

The car abruptly stopped moving, and a few moments later the trunk was opened wide. Her eyes were now used to darkness, and she was blinded by daylight.

She could only recognize his voice. "Hi, there, darlin'. It's been awhile."

...

Paul opened his eyes and wasn't really sure of the last thing he remembered. The first thing that burst inside his mind when his eyes opened was Sara. And the first memory was a carnal one. Discovering warm skin while he stuffed his hand beneath her shirt, drawing moans out of her that nearly drove him mad. Had all of this happened? It seemed very easy to think now that it all had been a dream. Had she really confessed that she loved him?

When he tried to get up, he realized he was lying stretched on a table, and he also realized then that his shoulder hurt like hell. That's also when he remembered the last thing he had registered, which was Sara's voice, screaming his name.

"Easy," someone told him before forcing him to lie still again.

"Where is Sara?"

He recognized Buffy with a half-attentive mind. "You need to relax, you've been shot."

"Doesn't hurt that bad." He got up too brutally for her to hold him still. "Now move out of the way."

"Well, aren't you fast to recover."

"I asked you a question. Where is she?"

But even though he had trouble to admit it, she was a lot stronger than him and she had no trouble forcing him back on the table. "You rest," she ordered, and he didn't want to obey, but then his eyes closed against him.

When he opened them again everything was different. His shoulder was bandaged, and he wasn't lying on a table anymore but on a bed. He got up and tried to remember what had happened earlier.

"You're really stubborn, you know that?" Buffy said.

She was sitting on a chair in front of him. He ignored her and got up, without even bothering to put a shirt on.

"Where is she?" He asked, calm but furious for a reason he hadn't yet heard.

"I don't know," Buffy answered. He wanted to snap her neck just for saying that. "Don't look at me like that, I'm not the one who brought these people into the house, I was taught to slay vampires, not human. The human kind is your problem, my friend."

"It is indeed, and I'm not your friend. Did they take her?" He asked, and the next few seconds seemed to stretch on and on.

"Yes." She answered, apologetic. He could have killed her for not sharing his panic and his rage, merely for looking _apologetic_. "When I went to the attic, I found one of my men knocked out, two dead, you bleeding out on the floor, and she was nowhere to be found."

"You searched everywhere?" He asked, trying to restrain himself.

"Yes, now perhaps you could start by telling me who these men are, and why they would go after a nice girl such as yours."

"Explaining the situation to you is not my biggest concern," he answered and walked past her. He put on a shirt quickly before heading toward the field.

"Where are you going?" Buffy asked.

_'Find her, kill everyone that is involved and then remind her of what she promised,_' was the answer he thought of. "I'm going to fix this," he said instead, before taking one of the few guns that were hanging on the garden's wall.

"I'll have you know that five of my people died yesterday because of the men that took Sara, so the least you could do is give me a damned good explanation. What are they after?"

"I don't think they need Sara," Paul said without looking at the young woman, "they probably took her because they think she'll lead them to Scofield."

"And why do they want him, they're with the police or something? Because I don't think what they did is legal."

"It's not," he said, also taking a knife which he hung on his belt, "they're not cops."

"Then what's the problem?"

Paul turned to her, furious. "The problem is you're in my way." He walked past her and made his way back to the stairs.

"What are you going to do?" Buffy said. "Search the whole planet until you find her?" Paul didn't answer. "You want to know what works better than that? Spells."

"Like your spells work so well," Paul said, turning back to her.

"When Willow made that spell she was alone, hopefully when they get back, there will be a dozen of witches with them. We can renew the spell, and use their magic to find Sara."

Paul didn't reply. He didn't want to quietly wait for things to happen, he wanted to do something now, but he was forced to admit that Buffy's plan did seem a little more organized than his. "And why would you do all this to get her back?" He said. "Why do you care?"

"She's one of my people for starters, has been since the second she walked in this house. I'll protect anyone who puts their life in my hands. Besides, she's our only doctor and that's a major asset."

Paul nodded. "Fine, you call Michael today and explain the situation to him, and you tell him to get back with your witches as fast as possible."

"No need, it's done. I called an hour ago when you were still out, they're on their way."

Paul tried to feel relieved, he tried to feel relaxed, but he just couldn't calm down with Sara out of his sight. "When will they get here?" He asked, trying to find a way to evacuate his anger.

"About an hour. Don't worry, she'll be fine." He didn't reply, and she could only notice how intense his anger was. "You really care about her don't you?"

"That's none of your business."

"Angry, are we? You know, if I knew the situation a little better, I'd say you're feeling guilty."

"Shut up." He interrupted sharply. "You can't understand."

No one could, no one ever would, because what Sara and him both felt was something different than what existed in the realm of feelings. It was love, it was more than love, it was every strong feeling that existed only stronger, it was needing, and demanding, and it couldn't be repressed without exploding as a consequence. It was the kind of feeling no one gets to feel, and the few that do only feel once. And so he had to find her, before he could truly think of the phrase 'losing what you've never found'.

...

Sara was led to an abandoned house, which was visibly decaying. Her wrists were un-taped for a split second, only to be secured to a chain, set on the wall. They had planned this, and they had planned the setting, and for some reason, this made her sicker.

Mahone and Bagwell had been joined by two other men at some point, but they had split up before reaching the house; she didn't know how many more people were in on this, or if the two other agents would come back. She kind of hoped they would. It was getting to feel a little intimate, with only the stone-hardened ex-cop, and the ex-convict.

Mahone approached her first, and put his hand near the tape on her mouth. "Now, I'll remove this, and just so you know it's useless to scream, because there isn't a living soul around within five miles. The gag's really just there to protect my ears, so you promise you'll behave?"

Sara didn't nod or show a gesture of cooperation; she would send both these men to hell before she cooperated with either, but Mahone removed the tape from her lips anyway. She was tempted to spit in his face, but then decided that she was already on Bagwell's bad side because of that episode at the lodge, and she thought it was a good idea that Mahone didn't have a reason to hate her.

"What do you want?" She asked, and didn't repress the anger in her voice. Beneath that anger, she would sound broken. "I have nothing left that's any interest to the President."

"But of course you do, as I've heard you've already done quite a lot to protect it. You've heard of a certain tape, haven't you, one that incriminates the President and her brother, sounding quite alive when he shouldn't be."

"I don't know where it is."

"But your boyfriend does, where is he?"

"I don't know," she said honestly.

A short silence settled. Bagwell's lips were curved in a smirk of anticipation. Mahone sighed. "Let's just end this easily, Sara, just give the location of the tape, or Scofield, and you'll be left alone."

"I don't have an answer for either. Sorry." She added, because she wanted to sound sarcastic, even though she mentally slapped herself for it a second later.

Right now, she wanted to be too bold to think; she didn't want to think. Not when Mahone's tone reminded her of the one Paul had once used, what seemed to be another life ago.

"You have to realize that, as every day goes by, that tape is being studied and studied again by experts, and the more time we waste, the more time they have to figure out how to use it in court. So we need it now, Sara, we need it yesterday. Tell me where Scofield is, and as soon as he's given us the information, I assure you that the two of you will be released and left alone for the rest of your life. You have my word."

Sara would have loved to tell him where he could put his word, but instead she tried to think quietly for a moment. She couldn't answer his question, even if things got bad; and that was good, she managed to think, because it meant nothing that happened to her today would threaten the safety of the people she loved. She just wished she could have made things right with Michael before this happened.

"What will it be, Sara?" Mahone asked.

And so, aware that she could say nothing to save herself anyway and it was probably for the best, she just said. "Screw you."

She saw a spark light in Bagwell's eyes as he sucked on his lower lip, and she knew he was going to enjoy her pain and she would try to endure it with as much dignity as she could. She would try not to scream, or cry, and ultimately this would end. This was the best case scenario.

Mahone sighed, and shook his head. "I'm disappointed," he only said, walking further away from her so he could reach a briefcase that had lay untouched inside the room since they had gotten in, and which no one had seemed to pay attention to until now.

He opened it and laid it down, uncovering layers of tools she had worked with quite a lot as a doctor. Her last operation in an actual hospital came back to her, and she wanted to throw up.

"I'm assuming you're familiar with these," Mahone said, and she couldn't reply anything.

Her mood to send him to hell was long gone. She just wanted to close her eyes and forget what she had seen inside the briefcase, so that she wouldn't be able to see what happened when the pain would come. But she couldn't forget. He let her imagination work against her will for a few minutes.

"Well, kitten," Bagwell burst in, and it was the first time he spoke since they had entered the house, which made Sara feel closer to nausea. "Don't you think it was about time we played doctor with you for a change?"

Sara closed her eyes, and tried with all her strength to be somewhere else. If she was going to die in this room anyway she might as well flee mentally. She thought of being somewhere safe, she thought of Paul, and she wondered if Michael could ever stand to only be her friend – no, she couldn't have it both ways and it wasn't fair to think so, and she didn't, really; but she hoped.

Despite herself, she jumped back to reality as soon as she heard footsteps approach her. Something cold came in contact with her cheek. She opened her eyes without thinking and saw Bagwell pressing a scalpel to her face; he lowered the blade to her neck, still not cutting her, but he popped the three first buttons of her shirt open, giving a grotesque opening on her candy-pink lacy bra.

"Now, I would hate to be the man to put a scar on such a fine body. Are you sure you don't want to share some information?"

She didn't answer, and faced his eyes with the very last bit of strength she owned.

"I have to confess," he said with a smile, "I was kind of hoping you wouldn't." 

...

Paul felt helpless. He hated feeling helpless, by the way, more than anything else in the world. That was why, in his life, he had always made sure he had power; but not anymore. Not when it came to her. He would kill them, whoever it was had taken her, he would make them beg and kneel, and apologize at her feet before he killed them turn by turn. He had been in the business of pain until recently, but he couldn't think of one in particular that would be enough punishment, before death. No pain was worth the punishment of taking her from him.

The front door suddenly opened wide, and Kellerman was overwhelmed by a familiar rage when he saw Michael enter with Buffy. The young man seemed to find the feeling reciprocate.

"You." Michael said, walking toward him. "What did you do? How could you let them take her?"

"What did I do?" Paul said, boiling with anger. "What did _you_ do? Where were _you_? It's for you they came, not her, they have her because of you!"

Paul didn't know what came from nowhere and stopped him from jumping on Michael, but it was moving very fast.

"The both of you calm down," Buffy said, still holding Michael back. "Damon, don't let that one get away."

So that was the thing that kept him away from his prey. What was a Damon anyway?

"Don't intend to," Damon replied, then said to his address. "Chill, dude, whatever woman's got you worked up like that she isn't worth it."

Paul could have ripped off his head just for that.

"The both of you are going to calm down, right now," Buffy ordered, "if you want her back then you'll have to work together, now do love her or do you hate each other more?"

Michael gritted his teeth. Right now he had to admit he wasn't sure.

Paul forced himself to calm down and made Damon let go of him, Buffy let go of Michael only after she was sure he was calmed.

"No more of that, guys," she said, "not ever, I really hate that I had to say it like a thousand times."

"Just have your witch do the spell," Paul said.

They waited for hours, just the both of them, sitting on the couch, in the living room, hopelessly hoping for the best. Paul wanted to let Michael know that Sara was never going back to him, and the quarter of his brain that wasn't focused on being worried sick just felt like bragging like a teenager in front of his girl's ex-boyfriend.

Michael hated himself for letting this happen, just as he hated the man sitting in front of him, he hated that this had happened and he hated that he was gone when it had happened.

"You're going to stop staring at that clock? It's won't make time go faster." Paul said, annoyed.

"Would you just shut up?" Michael said. "You can't begin to imagine what I'm feeling right now."

"Funny, because I was more concerned about what Sara must be feeling right now. But again, my name is not Michael Scofield, I do not engage a war against the President of the United States and the whole world because I'm afraid my big brother will die. In other terms, I'm not a selfish bastard. OK, I am, but that's beside the point."

Michael got up immediately, his eyes murdering Paul. Kellerman got up as well, and Michael struggled to hold himself back. "I won't hurt you," he said, "because if I do, I'll kill you, and I wouldn't hurt her like that."

"I'm happy you acknowledge that it would hurt her, I didn't think you were past denial."

"That's true, but again, hurting her is not my specialty."

Paul's hands became fists, and he just felt the need to smash them in Michael's face until he dropped. He wanted to beat him to death.

"What's the matter, Paul?" Michael said, his hatred perfectly controlled. "Losing your temper? That's what is always going to get in the way of you two, you do know that? You might want to work on it, I've been told you can be quite ruthless when you get upset."

Kellerman didn't get the chance to reply before the front door opened, and Lincoln walked in. "Jesus, Mike, I heard, I'm so sorry. I got back with the rest of us as soon as I could." He looked at the two men who were trying to kill each other with their eyes. "Do you really think that we don't have bigger concern right now?" Lincoln added.

"We do," Paul said, still looking at Michael, "but I just want to make things clear. They took her because of you, and if she dies I will kill you."

Before Michael had a chance to punch him, Buffy burst out of the room that her, and Willow and a dozen of other witches had been locked in for hours. She looked at both of them with a look that looked too sorry.

"Well, where is she?" Michael said.

Buffy waited a moment. "I'm so sorry, we can't locate her anywhere. But it doesn't mean she's dead," she added seeing the look on their faces, "these people knew we had a witch on our side since they broke the spell around the house, it simply means that they assumed our next move and took their precautions, some amulets can't stop a witch from locating someone."

"So she's not dead?" Michael insisted.

"We can't know, because either way –"

"We won't be able to find her." Paul finished.

He wouldn't be able to find her. That dream they had almost had would go back to being a dream. And what he hated most was that all they had had was just one day. He could have never gotten enough of her, but he could have had the rest of his life to try... and he had had one day.

And it was a day that would never fade in his mind, it would never leave him of course because he loved her, god knew he loved her. But he had never told her.


	20. Chapter 20

**WARNINGS: slurs, violence**

_'__If you want a lover, I'll do anything you ask me to, and if you want another kind of love I'll wear a mask for you. If you want a partner, take my hand, or only want to strike me down in anger, here I stand. I'm your man.'_

_Leonard Cohen_

…

I love you.

Three words, eight letters, three syllables, and the strongest emotion he had felt in his life.

He had never said it to anyone before. Not to his parents, not to his sister, not to Caroline. Not to anyone. Paul Kellerman had never considered himself as the type of man who falls in love. The type who buys flowers, who makes dinner. It just wasn't his thing. And then something odd had happened. _She_ had happened, and he had started paying attention to her, and wishing her well, he had starting treating her like she was more than a simple plaything for him to toy with. He had cooked for her, become friends with her, and as he got to know her, he had started down on an unhealthy road. He had started daydreaming. That alone was out of character, for the type of man Paul Kellerman considered himself as.

He had started thinking of what his life could have been… if he had known how to turn back time.

And time was a funny thing as well, because right now it seemed to be going agonizingly slow, and yet incredibly fast. Each second the clock took away was one more second he wondered where Sara was. Each second was an opportunity for him to imagine what she could be going through. What she could only be going through.

Kellerman was sitting on the couch, his nails dug into his scalp. The ghost of Sara's screams haunted his mind, as well as that terrified look on her face... which he had seen before too many times.

"Look," Buffy told Michael, but Paul couldn't listen to them right now. "I'm not saying we're going to give up on her, we are going to look. It's just going to take a while, because I'm not sure where to start."

"Maybe..." Michael said, holding his scalp in his hands, as if he was trying to stop a headache. "If we can't locate her, how about locating someone that's with her?"

Buffy winced. "It's not the way it works. The kind of charm that can protect someone from magic works with distance. Say the man who took her is wearing an amulet, everyone within a mile will be impossible to track."

Michael sighed and went on making suggestions, and Kellerman really wished that he would shut up. He wanted to tell him that. He wanted to tell him that it was his own fault that Sara had been taken and this time there was no one else to blame. He wished Michael had been taken by the company instead of Sara; it was him they wanted anyway. Sara didn't know where Michael was right now, she probably couldn't trade his life for hers even if she tried. She was lost. He had lost her. And he had lost her because of Michael Scofield.

"Mike," Lincoln interrupted his brother's rambling at some point. "Try to calm down, OK?" He put a hand on his shoulder, but Michael hardly seemed to hear him.

"If we can't locate her or anyone who's with her," Michael went on, "we should just find someone important to them. Someone they would be willing to trade."

This was the first thing that Michael said which Kellerman seemed to hear. He lifted his head from his hands and opened his eyes.

"Caroline." He said out loud, and every person in the room looked at him.

"What did you say?" Lincoln frowned.

"Caroline Reynolds." Paul repeated. "She's the one behind all of this, she's probably the one who ordered these men to take Sara. I'm telling you, we'll get to her by going after the President of the United States."

"You want to attack Queen Bee herself?"

"Why not?" Paul said to Lincoln's comment. "It all started with her, some might even see this as poetic justice."

"We're still talking about kidnapping the most powerful woman in the country."

"It could work." Michael countered.

"Wait a second," Buffy interrupted, "not that I'm following you at a hundred percent, but are you saying that this has been happening under the President's knowledge? Shit. I voted for her."

"Yeah." Paul said, humorless and in no mood to linger. "She has that effect on people, it's a side effect of being a manipulative bitch."

Lincoln sighed, as though thinking of what would have happened if Caroline Reynolds had decided never to interfere with his life. "Fine, count me in. Let's take her down."

Michael shrugged, as if he hadn't given this a second thought. "If it'll help us get Sara back."

Kellerman didn't pay attention to him and turned towards Buffy. "Can we count you in, Blondie?"

"Of course. Like I said, I don't give up on my people. I'll ask Willow to perform another tracking spell."

"You certainly won't." Kellerman stated. "If Caroline was able to make sure we couldn't track Sara, don't think we'll have a chance at tracking her down. Besides, she might be able to tell we've tried to find her, and that'll ruin our only asset."

"Our only asset being?" Michael said, hating the fact that he had to ask questions for once.

"Surprise." Kellerman answered. "We don't need a spell to find Caroline, we just need to get inside her head, and trust me, I've worked with her long enough not only to know what she thinks but how she thinks it, and my gut tells me…" He paused for a moment, and let out a breath before he finished. "That she's going to call me before the end of the day."

…

Sara's head banged against the wall hard. A kind of metallic taste spread inside of her mouth.

Theodore Bagwell stretched his knuckles.

"You know, I'm curious," he said, "does your boyfriend need to put you back in your place as often as I do? I'd be interested in seeing Scofield handle a domestic drama."

"Don't go too hard." Mahone said, so calm Sara wondered which one of the men sickened her most. "We need her to be able to talk."

The blow had brought dizziness into Sara's whole body, and it didn't seem to vanish after the pain wore out. Right now, it just felt like she would be dizzy for the rest of her life. She reckoned it would be an extremely short life. She was drained from the hope that she would get out of this alive, she actually just wished it would be over as soon as possible. She was starting to hate it here, the abandoned house and the guttural screams that broke through silence. She never realized they were hers until a while after.

"Look, I'll give you a second chance to answer me." Mahone said, as though this were starting to tire him in some way. "Where is Michael Scofield?"

"Screw you."

"Sounds like fun." Bagwell shot back, and soon his knife was dancing on her bare throat.

The repartee just came like a reflex now, she didn't really need to think about it, and it wasn't as though it would make what was left of her life more painful. She didn't make an attempt to pull away from the ex-convict, she knew he would get too much satisfaction out of watching her try to escape him.

"What, no fighting?" He teased, as though reading her thoughts. "Back in Fox River I wondered about it sometimes, and you know I kind of figured that's the act you'd pull, holding on to your pride and all that. Tell me, doctor, how proud do you feel now?"

The answer to that was minus a hundred, but Sara didn't bother to reply. The scalpel in Theodore's hand played across her throat for a moment, before he lowered it to the collar of her low neck.

She bit her tongue when it cut through, this really had to be satisfying enough for her ex-patient without adding any bonus. Unfortunately, just to watch her hold back and wince from the pain was enough to put a wicked grin on his lips. It made Sara think that if that smile was the last thing she saw, she would have been the unluckiest dead woman on earth.

The knife ruptured her flesh effortlessly and he stopped the cut just above her bra. She didn't get a moment to breathe before he started a horizontal line with his blade, which met the fresh scar he had just drawn across her skin.

The mark above her breast was an indelible T.

T for T-Bag. Right now, Sara just wished she would die and forget she had ever seen or felt any of this.

"Looks like I'm with you now, doc, whatever happens."

A flinch escaped her when he brought two fingers against the scar, and the direct contact between his skin and her blood made Sara feel as though she would never be clean again. His fingers were streaked with red when he pulled the out of her neck, and Sara didn't even have the reflex or the energy to look down when he brought them to his mouth.

But as if this wasn't the most disgusting thing he could think of doing, he leaned into her throat where blood spilled by little drops, and ran his tongue across the length of the scar. Sara let out a gasp of repulsion. Her eyes searched for an escape and set on Mahone, who still hadn't moved. He looked a bit sorry and disgusted himself, but it wasn't as though he was about to take pity on her. He had warned, he had told her what he wanted from her, what was happening now was no more than the consequence of her stubbornness, or so he probably thought.

"Are you sure you don't feel like talking, Sara?" He said, and she lowered her eyes from his for an answer.

The most logical thing to do right now was accepting her fate, and she thought that from the moment she had met Michael Scofield, part of her had been willing to die for him, anyway. And since the moment she had started on the road of addictions and self-destruction, she had known she would probably only end up paying for someone else's debts.

"Well, this is starting to make me sick." Mahone announced, calmly, and he let out an audible sigh before he started towards the door.

"No."

Sara was unaware of the plea leaving her mouth until after she'd said it, and even though she had promised herself not to beg, she couldn't manage to wish it back.

Mahone cast a glance in her direction, and Bagwell didn't even remove his face from her neck.

"Sorry," the cop said, probably meaning it, before he walked out on them both.

"Well," came the familiar southern drawl, "it doesn't look like you're getting away this time. No need to be worried, I'll take good care of you."

Sara set her eyes on the wall, and forbade herself to start crying now. It wasn't as though facing the prospect of being tortured to death was ever enticing, but she had grown to accept it during the past few hours, and all of these efforts would make no sense if, right now, she forgot all about the reasons why it was happening and could only, childishly focus on how awful it was and unfair.

Maybe she would cry, anyway. Because, even though her life had never been amazing during her childhood or adolescence, she would have never thought it could end this badly. She always thought she'd get the time to make better choices, to start being a better person – she was oddly grateful to have taken that job at Fox River, if only for that reason.

It wouldn't stop her from crying still, if Theodore Bagwell got his hands on any more of her.

Fortunately, as though her thoughts had been heard by Providence, the ring of a cell phone sounded in the forsaken house. Given the look on Bagwell's face, it was his to answer. To Sara, that stupid alarm was about the most beautiful sound in the world.

He sighed, disappointed, oddly childish also in his anger. "Don't go anywhere." He took a few steps backwards before answering the phone. "Hello?" He said, and with an even more audible disappointment. "Does it have to be right now, boss, I'm kind of in the middle of something."

For a second, Sara considered the possibility that none of this was really happening, and that phone call was only a dream or the product of her imagination. It sounded oddly ironical that _now_, her luck would start to turn.

T-Bag sighed again. "Sure, consider it done." He hung up and looked back at Sara. "Laugh all you want, darling, I'll be back before you can notice I'm gone."

He walked away from the house, and Sara let out a breath of relief when she remained alone. The chains that bounded her hands to the wall probably made it so she wouldn't be getting away from there, even without a supervisor. She was no master of escape and metal seemed unbeatable to her anyhow, but however long it would last, to be alone right now seemed like enough of a reward. Maybe just a sign that things would turn out better than she thought.

…

"How can you know for sure?" Michael broke out.

"Because I know Caroline." Paul stated dryly. "I trust that after my betrayal, she won't resist the urge to throw this in my face. I'll act as though I've made the greatest mistake of my life and she'll agree to meet. Trust me, I'm the hell of an actor."

"You honestly think she'll buy that?" Lincoln frowned.

"Of course she will. It's the game we've been playing since we've met, she'll only believe that this fling with Sara was a part of it. I'll handle this."

"And what about us?" Michael said. "You think I'll wait around and trust that you'll bring Sara back to me?"

Well, clearly the boy had some catching up to do, but Kellerman didn't point it out. "Well, I'll need you." He said instead. "Caroline won't let me back in if I don't bring her a forgive-me gift of some sort."

"What?" Lincoln's eyes opened wide. "You want us to play bait?"

"At least you'd be playing a part in rescuing her, isn't that what you want?"

Michael chuckled humorlessly. "And what tells me you won't get Sara back and leave me and Lincoln to rot in the President's hands?"

Kellerman flashed a grin. "That's the funny part. You have to trust me."

"Well, I don't intend to gamble with Sara's life according to your hunch."

"Caroline will call. I betrayed her to save Sara's life, do you think she'll miss the opportunity to rub it in my face? But hey, if you have a better idea, please, feel more than welcome to share it."

Michael gritted his teeth. "She better call."

Not thirty seconds later, Kellerman's cell phone started to ring, but the man wasn't even in the mood to smirk.

"Caroline," he said when he picked up.

"You've chosen the wrong path, Paul."

Hearing her voice again made him go back to the innumerous times he had answered that same phone, to hear exactly the same voice... and he was more than sick of it. "It would seem so indeed." He said, forcing himself to be impassive. "Though I must admit I fail to understand why a person so insignificant as Sara Tancredi could be of any use to you."

"You could at least drop the act now, Paul, considering what you've given up for that woman. Your country, your career."

"And you." Kellerman finished. "I'm curious, Caroline. Did you ask your lapdogs to shoot me? Did you ask them to miss?"

"You haven't changed one bit."

"Nor have you." He paused for a second then went on. "One week ago you asked me to return to you."

He heard her scoff at the end of the line – he knew that outraged laughter of hers too well not to picture the look on her face that came with. "You've lost your mind if you imagine this offer still stands."

"Well, what if I have something to offer? A kind of peace offering or so."

"What might this offering be?"

"The brothers." Kellerman answered naturally. "Scofield and Burrows, on a silver plate."

"You honestly think you could pull this off?"

"I'm not saying I'll do it, Caroline. I'm saying I have. I'm actually looking at both of them right now at a shooting distance."

"And you would like to get Tancredi in exchange, I presume." The bitterness was almost covered by the self-confidence in her voice, but he knew her too well to be fooled.

He knew exactly how to wrap this up. "What I would like, my sweet Caroline, is something of much greater value."

As he spoke the words, Kellerman knew for certain that she would buy it. Caroline Reynolds could not be defined as a naïve woman, only Paul knew she could never believe that one foolish girl he had met on the job had been able to actually change him. What she would believe was that he had gotten curious, and that for one brief moment of doubt he had been too moved to kill the girl. All he had to do now was confirm that thought by showing how much he regretted this one act of mercy.

"Is that what you're after, Paul?" He could imagine Caroline's blond brow arching in interest. "A deal? You think that if you get me the brothers, I'll give you your job back."

"Well, it is more than fair. Scofield and Burrows would bring you much more than what Sara Tancredi has cost you."

"So what becomes of her?"

The question was a trick and he knew it, and showed no hesitation or concern as he went on. "Kill her. She will no longer be of any use to you, and she isn't on my mind anymore."

"You gave up everything for a woman that you are now willing to sacrifice?"

"Please, Caroline." Paul feigned annoyance to perfection. "I never meant for a single moment of pity to bring so many consequences, had I known it would cause so many trouble I would have slit the girl's throat."

Michael dug his fingernails in his palm without being able to help it. He knew Kellerman was lying and yet his last sentence stirred so much rage in him that he was almost tempted to believe him, would it only be to have a reason to strike.

"Very well." She agreed after a short moment of silence. "If you bring me the brothers, you'll get your job back and we won't discuss Tancredi any longer."

Kellerman smiled only to complete the act. "I like that deal."

…

Sara opened her eyes every time she felt tiredness win her over. She didn't want to wake up after Theodore had returned. She realized it was pointless, of course. Whether or not she fell asleep would not make a difference for her, but it was the last thing about her current situation that she still controlled. It might not help save her life but at least for the moment, it helped with her sanity.

She could feel the pair of handcuffs scraping the skin of her wrists, and her posture was becoming physically hard to stand. Her legs had been supporting her for a long while, and between this and what she had endured tonight she doubted she could keep up for much longer. Of course, the pain of her sore muscles was not much compared to the rest of it. The place where her shoulder had been skinned was starting to dry up, she could feel the flesh crack every time she moved.

Right at this moment, it occurred to her that she was not fooling a great deal. She was tied up, injured and her shirt was hanging open. She had definitely run out of control.

She wished she could be back in Sunnydale. She wondered how Kellerman would react if she died. For some reason, the idea that he would be crushed and never love a woman again the way he had loved her felt comforting. It was a selfish thought, and it would probably add up to her list of sins, but she didn't find the wrong in indulging right now.

As it turned out, apart from wishing they had had more time, Sara found that she didn't have so many regrets. She wished she could have made things right with Michael, and she wished she could have told Paul that she had forgiven him. She had loved Michael Scofield, almost from the beginning, and she supposed that her feelings for him at least made sense. But what she had felt for Paul… she had tried to escape it so hard that she had come to think it wasn't something she felt, but something she was.

She loved Michael dearly, and to hurt him would break her heart. But her feelings for Paul went deeper than her bones. It did not make sense. It was in her nature.

For a while there, with nothing other to do than think, Sara started wishing there existed a place with no rules and no past, just love and only love. If there were such a place, they would be together.

Then without a warning, the door of the abandoned house opened and a tall man stepped in. Sara didn't even have time to analyze the situation. She merely spotted a cell phone held to the man's ear, and a gun in his hand. Then all he said was. "I'm here." And. "It'll be done."

Then he pointed the weapon at her and got ready to fire.

…

Paul was waiting at the meeting point, his deep gaze hidden by a pair of dark sunglasses, the one he usually wore, because you can't lie with your eyes as easily as you can with your mouth. They had gone for a public place, that way Caroline wouldn't expect him to do pull something stupid, but a place deserted enough for them not to be bothered.

Kellerman was wearing a headset phone that had been made invisible by a spell – he would have to thank that redheaded witch later – and he heard Scofield speak in his ear.

"She's late."

"Of course she's late." He answered. "Did you expect that after everything I've done against her, she would be the first one to get there?"

Kellerman did his best to focus on the game and not on the part of him that wasn't thinking – the part of him that couldn't think. If he let the thought of Sara in for one single second, where she was and what she was going through, he knew he would lose his game.

She was somewhere where no one would come to protect her, and the people who had taken her would show no mercy. After all, neither had he.

When he spotted a limousine arrive, Kellerman put on an impassive mask. Guns were immediately pointed at him, and he had not expected it differently.

He knew he would be dragged god only knew where before he could see Caroline. She would not do this on his terms. He was put in the car and then he was on the road for less than twenty minutes. When the limousine stopped, he was taken to an office he had never been to before, but one that looked very much like Caroline's style.

He didn't physically react when he saw her. She was seated properly in front of the desk, and as he watched her he couldn't recover the need to please her that he had carried around for fifteen years. He couldn't turn back into the willing slave who had wanted to give her the world.

She had ruined his life. Kellerman could see that now. Himself only was to blame for what he had done to Sara, and for Caroline he had been merciless and as monstrous as it took, he had been the finest manipulator one could ask for; but he had lived in a world of far greater manipulation. Caroline would have never been his and he should have known it.

There would have never come a time when things would have changed, when they would have been on an equal footing. He had known this all along, in a way.

He had loved Caroline Reynolds as his queen.

Kellerman clenched his teeth invisibly. Now the woman he used to be obsessed about had taken the girl he loved, and he would react accordingly. Caroline had been his teacher and he would show himself a fine student. He would be merciless, and monstrous, and whatever else required.

"Why don't you take a seat?" She offered and he sat down, the dark sunglasses covering his angry gaze.

"Remember." He heard Michael say in the headset. "No games, no surprises. You just stick to the plan, you draw her outside and Linc and Buffy will handle it."

Willow had put a spell on him to make sure they could locate him wherever he went, so all he had to do was pretty much just stall until backup could get there.

"It feels to me like the last time we met was ages ago." Her tone was cold, and he could tell it was a test.

"Really?" Kellerman arched a brow – he couldn't get carried away. There could be no slipup this time. "It feels like yesterday to me."

He removed the glasses, aware that she would suspect something if he kept them on for the whole meeting. She had to believe that she could trust him.

"So." She said, moving on to business. "The brothers?"

"Somewhere safe." Kellerman answered, putting on a grin that still almost came naturally. "You didn't expect me to bring them in my pocket, did you?"

"An address would do."

"What tells me you won't ask your men to kill me the second I tell you where they are?"

"Ask her about Sara." Michael spoke on phone, but Kellerman did no such thing. Showing interest in Sara right now would ruin this whole thing.

"Come on, Paul. It isn't like that anymore and you know it." Caroline said.

"Then why don't you just trust me about the brothers and we'll handle this later."

"Well, unlike you Paul, I haven't proved myself disloyal."

Kellerman took the hit. He knew that something would come up about Sara and he was prepared for it. He shrugged his shoulders with a half bored air. "What can I say? We could call it an early midlife crisis. I was curious, I was moved, and so I took pity on her. I don't expect you to tell me where she is now, Caroline, nor do I truly care."

"Well, that's a good thing." She said with a smile. "Because I suppose your answer would be: lying dead somewhere with a bullet between her eyes."

Kellerman dug his fingernails into his thighs. He could hear Michael yelling in his ears but he didn't listen. He knew now was the time not to show a reaction and this was all probably a test. But he couldn't see why Caroline would bluff right now when she could have acted on her threats.

All sense seemed to leave his head.

"What do you mean?" He managed asking.

"She was only of use to us if she could lead us to Scofield, right?" He could tell she had noticed the sudden interest in his eyes, but he couldn't control it. "Now that you've done that, she's nothing but a loose end."

Kellerman assessed her eyes a moment. She was lying, he had to believe that. It was the final test.

But there was no point for her to be lying now. He realized that in an instant… then something just snapped.

The next second, Caroline was pinned against the wooden desk and he had his gun against her temple. He threw the headset on the floor and held her down with his uninjured arm, his grip on her throat.

"Where is she?" He asked.

"Stop it, Paul. You're embarrassing yourself. You've got it all wrong, again." She sighed. "All you had to do was do your goddamned job, now the men outside this door will shoot you in a heartbeat."

"Somehow I doubt that."

Lincoln stepped inside, closely followed by Buffy. "You should get some decent guards." She said to the President's attention. "These ones almost bored me."

Kellerman didn't bother to look in his team's direction. He held eye-contact with Caroline. "Now call your men and ask them to set Sara free."

He watched her swallow. "I can't do that, Paul. I told you the truth earlier. I already sent the order to have her killed."

"You're lying." He hissed. "You didn't trust me when I called you. Sara was your last shot at getting Scofield."

"Well, she wasn't being very cooperative."

Kellerman sank the barrel of his gun into her skull. "I will shoot you, Caroline. So help me god, I'll shoot you. I think you're lying right now, and I think you're doing it because you don't think that I'll do it. But I will. I'll kill you, and it'll be for Sara, and for me. So you take your phone now and you call them, and you better hope that she's still alive, because if she's not, you'll be the first President of the United States to have been shot down by her lover."

With a corner of his eye, he saw Buffy frown at his last comment and Lincoln lower his eyes awkwardly, but he didn't look away from Caroline.

"After all we've been through, Paul, you're willing to toss all of it away just for some junkie whore?"

"Is that humiliating for you?" He wondered. "That I prefer her to you?"

"You could have had this country at your feet. You could have had everything you wanted and instead you'll have nothing."

"What you gave me was never real." He argued, his finger tight around the trigger. "You gave me promises and illusions and the most ironic thing of all is it's not why I've left you. I would have fought your battles and died for your pointless wars. But in the course of that, I've almost sacrificed the only thing that's been real in my life." He gripped at her hair to straighten her up. "You mean nothing to me now. You've become as ghostly and transparent as your devotion was to me. So call your men now, Caroline. And if they tell you she's dead, it'll be the last thing that you hear."

…

Sara froze at the sight ahead of her. The gun was right there aimed at her, and there was no doubt that the man would fire. She couldn't believe this was the last image she would take with her. The thoughts went on hurriedly in her mind. This was it. Goodbye Paul, I love you. Goodbye Michael, please forgive me.

"Now, this is all overly dramatic." The southern drawl sounded at the entrance, and Sara's eyes followed it automatically. Theodore was standing by the open door, arms crossed over his chest. "It's a bit easy too, don't you think?"

Sara swallowed tightly. Now a bullet in the head didn't seem like such an unattractive option.

"Shut your mouth, T-Bag." The armed man said without lowering his weapon. "I've got orders from the President. It's the easiest way to end this."

"But such an awful waste. Why don't you hand me the gun and walk out, let me handle this?"

"I don't think so. I've got specific orders –"

"Yeah, yeah. I can take care of that for you. I've always heard there's a special place in hell for people who let go of something fine without giving it one last use."

Sara's throat tightened into a tiny knot. "Please –"

"You shut up." The man said before she could finish. He considered Theodore's request with visible impatience and a loud sigh, and out of a particular cruelty or indifference that Sara didn't suspect to exist, he handed him the gun. Maybe he just thought he had somewhere better to be right now. "Fine. Don't forget to clean up behind you." He said, and left the house.

Sara's heart started beating twice as fast as it was the previous minute, which was pretty darn fast considering she was just about to get shot then. She prayed the ceiling would collapse on her or that a lightning would suddenly strike her dead. She started praying for just about anything that would get her away from Theodore Bagwell's hungry gaze.

She watched him press his lips together and tilt his head to the side, then he made his way to her, slowly, and held the barrel of the gun against her mouth. He looked at the no doubt visible terror on her face like one looks at a work of art.

"You know what, darling? I think I'll tell pretty that you said goodbye."

…

Lincoln and Buffy looked at the scene with apprehension. Both would have liked to be doing something helpful right now, but Kellerman seemed to have things under perfect control. They watched him hold that gun to Caroline's throat until the tension seemed almost sinful, and Lincoln broke out. "For fuck's sake, give us a damn address! You don't want to call your men, just tell us where she is. You think Kellerman won't kill you? Well trust me, I will. You've put my whole life in jeopardy to serve your damn purposes and you keep going after the people I love, so you've got five seconds to talk before you join your dear brother in the grave."

Neither Kellerman nor Caroline moved, and they didn't break eye-contact. Paul gave her a cold look that used to be how he teased her, but he wasn't teasing now. He was cold, she could see it well. "It's either your life or your pride." He said. "So will you talk, or should I start treating you the way we've treated Sara?"

He watched her grit her teeth, burning with shame, but he wasn't in the mood to enjoy it.

"She's in an abandoned house about ten miles from here, near an old cemetery."

"Sacred place." Buffy shook her head. "That's why the locating spell wouldn't work."

"It's where you'll find your precious Sara." Caroline said without paying attention to the young woman's comment.

Kellerman didn't waste a second before hanging his gun back to his belt and walking away. "Stay here and watch her." He said to Buffy and Lincoln's attention. "If Sara's not here when I get to the address, shoot her."

…

Death was a topic that Sara Tancredi had had many occasions to think about. In a way, she supposed that every single time she had dug a needle in her arm, she was thinking about it. The happiness that the drugs brought her had felt real, but she had known deep down that they were like bad love – it feels good when it's there but you know that the more you give in to it and the longer you wait to let go, the worse it'll hurt. She had thought about death for the first time when her mother had died, during her childhood. She had thought of it trapped in a riot, in Fox River, and in a motel room in New Mexico.

But of all the ways that Sara Tancredi could have imagined she would die, this wouldn't have made the list.

And as she stared into her torturer's wicked eyes, she knew exactly what was going to happen to her. She knew it would not be quick, and it would not be merciful. It would be vicious. He would take his time doing it, and he would take his time killing her when he was done. Her only comfort now was that after the pain and the humiliation – death would probably come as a release.

He ran a finger down her neck and she lowered her eyes, then he ordered. "Look at me. Now," he went on, "before we start, I want you to think of something real hard. I want you to think of what's coming and know that if your precious Scofield hadn't broken me out of prison, I wouldn't be doing to you all of the things that I'm about to do. No, look at me." He repeated when she turned her head, and he grabbed her chin with his fingers to make her. "Aren't you going to struggle? I would have expected that you had some fight in you."

He slapped her at once and sent her head banging against the wall. For a short moment, Sara prayed that the blow would knock her out, but she wasn't even dizzy for more than a few seconds.

Theodore frowned at her reaction. He had thought that she would fight him, during the times when he fantasized about locking the guard who always watched over their medical sessions, in Fox River's infirmary. He had thought she would struggle and beg and call him an animal, but the resolved look in her eyes intrigued him immediately, as if to say that if she was aware she would lose her dignity tonight, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of trying to hold on to it.

A grin crooked the beginning of his lips. If anything, it just made his want stronger.

…

It was the first thing Kellerman saw when he entered the house. Theodore Bagwell leaning over her, with her forehead bleeding and her shirt wide open. He shot the first bullet almost without aiming, as a sheer reflex, as though it was the only thing that made sense right now.

He saw Bagwell fall to the ground and then nothing but her, as the man's body fully uncovered her to his sight. Half the skin of her right shoulder was gone, it's what Kellerman first noticed before he spotted the tools – then, his eyes set on the man on the floor, hands pressed against his shoulder to stop the bleeding.

Kellerman reloaded his gun without thinking. He didn't think one bullet or even ten would be enough to sate his anger, but he could start with that. He aimed for the knee first and fired, and the scream he let out only brought him little satisfaction. He kicked off Bagwell's weapon to make sure it was out of reach then he aimed for his thigh, with the intention of making a slow travel up to his head.

"Stop." He then heard, spoken pleadingly but authoritatively, with a kind of resisting strength he had only heard twice in his life – the first time when he had tortured Sara in New Mexico, and the second when he had tried to kill her in the woods.

But that didn't make much sense right now, actually, nothing did. It didn't make sense that Theodore Bagwell should get to live. It didn't even make sense to Kellerman to be the person he was right now. He didn't feel like a soldier or a man engaged in a legitimate battle anymore.

He just felt like someone that had tortured the woman he loved.

For a moment, he thought that nothing would ever make sense in the world anymore.

Then he turned to face her, and right at the first moment that he looked at her, she was all he was able to see. He stopped feeling hate, or anger or confusion. He attached his gun to his hip quickly without breaking eye-contact with her, and his was an apologetic look. He could have shot Bagwell right there and then, even with her watching, it wasn't above his capacities, should she have to hear the bastard scream.

But she had been through enough right now. She had gone through the thought that she would die under terrible circumstances and she had been tortured and nearly violated, and all she wanted was probably to go home. And she had asked him to stop. Tonight, it appeared quite clearly to Kellerman that if any woman in this universe was actually his queen, Sara Tancredi was it.

He held her before he got the chance to untie her, and knew the second he felt her body against his that no hate in the world would ever compare to the love he felt for her. He didn't try to hush her when she cried or to tell her that she would be okay – she knew she would be okay now that he was here, and she knew that she would be safe.

"Paul," she ultimately let out in between sobs, audibly annoyed at her own crying, "get me out of here now."

"Of course." This made him feel like the stupidest of fools and he started looking around. "Keys?"

Sara lowered her eyes to Bagwell, lying on the ground, with visible repulsion. She saw Kellerman's eyes catch fire in an instant, but before she could worry he knelt down above the man's body and searched his pockets in silence. She imagined he was burning with rage, but he visibly held it in and managed to get up without throwing a look back, with the keys in his hands.

A wave of relief hit her the instant she was untied, and she wrapped her arms around Paul immediately. The crying had fortunately stopped, although she noted she couldn't quite stop shaking – it didn't seem to trouble Kellerman, and so she thought of it no more and let him hold her tight and stroke her hair.

She couldn't say how long it lasted, but part of her wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible, because Theodore was still half alive on the ground and she would only be able to relax once Kellerman and her would be far from this place, and on the other hand, she felt incapable of tearing from his arms now. Every time she tried to move away, she could feel herself shaking out of control.

So she allowed it to last the time it needed, feeling both terrified and safe.

And while it lasted, Michael only crossed her mind once. She thought about the feelings she used to have for him, the feelings that she still had, and knew at once that it had been pointless to hold on to them. They didn't compare. She could have only met Michael and loved him unconditionally all her life for, but he wasn't the person that she needed now. He wasn't the person who could calm her down, and hold her for over fifteen minutes straight without so much as moving an inch.

He couldn't save her.

Then for a brief moment, during her state of uncontrollable trembling and delusion, Sara thought about the Stockholm syndrome. She thought that Kellerman probably illustrated it better than any man could, and she thought she had fallen for it completely – but even though she knew better by now, she didn't manage to wish she hadn't.

"Let's get out of here." She uttered against his neck, to let him know she was done.

She really wanted to get out of here.

…

The night was cold, and Kellerman removed his coat the second they walked outside. Sara's own shirt was rather useless, being ripped open and all, and so she thanked him with a smile and wrapped herself in his coat.

Part of her wanted to still be snuggled against him, even as they walked, she wanted to stay close to him but knew that whatever he was processing right now was not mild – true, she was the one who had just been tortured and nearly raped then killed, but even though he didn't show it, she suspected there was a burning rage inside of Paul Kellerman that he was desperately trying to put to sleep.

She thought of saying something but before she could, he turned back to her and asked, sounding soft, but he was holding back. "Sara… I want you to close your eyes now, and not open them until I say so."

Bewilderment pervaded her eyes for a moment, then she nodded her head and she obeyed.

Kellerman led her back to the car, and only asked her to open her eyes after they had reached the car, and the few men that he had shot on his way to the house were far behind them.

He opened the door to the backseat and she shook her head. "No." She said, calmly and determined. "I want to be close to you."

"You'll rest better that way."

"I disagree." She insisted firmly, and he didn't know what else to do other than indulge her.

Whatever amount of rage he was going through right now, she didn't seem to be scared of it. A thought crossed Kellerman's mind, and he was almost ashamed of it. Maybe she would never be scared of him again.

He settled in the driver's seat and she sat next to him, and managed to lie down and still remain nearly comfortable, with her legs stretched on her seat. Kellerman tensed slightly when she lay her head on his knees.

"That's an infraction we're committing, you know." He said to tease, and sounded oddly awkward. Truth was, he did feel awkward, because she had just escaped death and now she was badly settled and hadn't even put her seatbelt on, but the thought that she would move away from him was too difficult. He dared stroking his index across her cheek before he started the car.

"Well," she finally replied to his comment, "we haven't exactly followed the law these past few months." She smiled with her eyes closed, and caught herself wishing that they would never go back to Sunnydale and just keep driving forever.

"You can go to sleep." He said, as though reading her mind. "Nothing will have changed when you wake up."

Her body and mind were exhausted, but she didn't want to give in. Actually, with her head rested on Paul's knees while they safely drove away, she decided this was probably the happiest moment of her life.

She stayed awake, and listened to Kellerman make two phone calls. One to Lincoln, to tell him that she was safe, and one to the police, to tell them where they could find one of Fox River's eight. She was in pain, but it was bearable and she figured that if she took extra care of that shoulder and with an amount of painkillers, things would be okay.

When Paul hung up the phone, she smiled and said. "Telephoning while driving is also an infraction."

She felt victorious at the slight smile it drew on his lips. "Go to sleep, Sara." He didn't seem to mean it that much beneath his concern. "We have a couple of hours of driving ahead of us."

"Are you sure you wouldn't rather take me away forever?" She quoted the idea he had formulated yesterday only, but it felt nostalgic to think of it already.

"I'm afraid we can't miss the apocalypse." He said with a sigh. Right now, he had to admit he felt tempted to do it still. "There are too many people counting on you."

"I don't care."

"You would. You'd regret it in the morning."

She sighed too. "Why is it that when the two protagonists of a movie disappear into the sunset, no one blames them for anything?"

He didn't answer. She probably wasn't aware of what she was suggesting, anyway – wasn't aware of how close he was to making a U-turn and stealing her into the night, driving somewhere where there would be no Caroline and no Michael, no one but the two of them and the rest of their lives to come. The apocalypse would have to do without them.

"Would that really be what you want?" He asked cautiously.

"Yes. I would want you to stop the car and hold me, and never go back." She sighed, and he could tell that it was not going to happen – he could tell that, in the rational part of her mind, she knew that she owed Michael an explanation. And irrationally, part of him felt angry that she hadn't been serious. "Everything will get so complicated when we get back. It's so much simpler when it's just the two of us." She paused for a second, then wondered. "Did you tell Michael that we –"

"No."

She thought of it for a second. "Good." She ultimately said. "He should learn it from me. It's the least he deserves."

Kellerman gritted his teeth. He wasn't sure what it was started him thinking of Bagwell again – maybe it was just thinking of people he hated – but he let out without warning. "I wanted to kill him."

Oddly enough, Sara didn't need to ask who he was talking about. "I imagine you did." She said.

"I mean it." He insisted. "I wanted him dead more than I've ever wanted to kill anyone in my life. Why did you ask me to stop?" A short silence set, and he tore his eyes from the road to look at her. "Sara?"

"Mmh?" She opened her eyes, and didn't try to deflect the question. As though her wish truly had been his command, and he couldn't have killed Bagwell without her approval. "Well, I couldn't explain it. All day, while he was doing all of these things to me, I just – I couldn't understand how one gets to become so callous, even if the person you're hurting is the enemy. Bagwell is the enemy, so I suppose I wanted to make a point. Besides, when you're a doctor you learn to spare lives when you can regardless of what your patients did."

Kellerman looked back at the road, her words sounding foreign in his mind. They actually sounded so unfamiliar that he reckoned she had to be a far better person than he was, because he still wished he had killed him.

She let out a sigh and said one last time. "You're sure you don't want to drive away?"

"Don't tempt me."

She closed her eyes, and said instead. "I love you."

He smiled, happy to get the chance to reply. "I love you." She was the first person he said it to in his life, and he decided it felt strange. A good kind of strange.

He glanced at Sara and watched her smile, with her eyes still shut. "He still loves me too." She said.

He knew who she meant right away. "Do you still love him?"

"Yes, I do."

Kellerman's hands tensed around the wheel. "He thinks you're going back to him, you know."

"I can't go back to the way things were before." She stated. "You were right, I'm the liar. I tried to escape something I couldn't and in the end, it caught up with me anyway."

"It was hard to get you to acknowledge that." He joked.

"Do you really love me?" She asked, and he didn't know whether it was because she doubted it or if she just wanted to hear him say it again.

"Yes." He answered. "Especially now. Sunnydale is the only safe place for you to be right now, Willow made sure that what happened yesterday would never happen again."

"I know. I still don't want to go back." She sighed. "I just want to disappear with you and – I don't know – turn you into a corny loving guy."

"I think you already did." He said with a tragic seriousness.

"Well, you deserve it." She joked. "You stole me from my boyfriend."

"I didn't steal you," he defended pointlessly, "I… borrowed you, without permission. And without any intention of returning you."

"Stealing." Sara rephrased. "Well, I suppose you're forgiven, saving me and all." She opened her eyes at Kellerman's silence and guessed what it was about. "If it can be of any comfort to you, prison is worse than death to him."

"And death is nothing compared to what I would have put him through."

"But you didn't." She said calmly. "Because you're a better man than Bagwell."

Kellerman remained silent for a second, before stating. "No I'm not." He shook his head. "He did nothing that I didn't do to you before."

Sara was baffled for a moment, uncertain what to reply to this. She couldn't deny it. The worst of it now was, she couldn't deny it. For the first time since she had given in to her feelings for Paul, she wondered if she was making the wrong decision. She loved him with a love she couldn't escape, but what if it was too late anyway? What if, ten years from now, a child of them was to ask: "mommy, what ever happened to your back?"

She closed her eyes silently and straightened in her seat. She didn't want to have that conversation with her head on his knees.

"I forgive you, Paul." She said. She knew his eyes had left the road, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. "You may have been a bad man but you've changed, and I trust you. I forgive you." She said again. "And I love you."

She finally met his eyes, and she decided he looked serious. "I don't deserve that."

"You could." She argued. "You could at least try."

"I will, I just –" He shook his head. "I'll do whatever is in my power to earn your forgiveness and your love, I'll do whatever you ask me to, always, but I – I just don't see how I could ever be what you deserve, Sara. What you want maybe, perhaps even what you need, but not what you deserve."

"Isn't that my decision to make?" He spotted anger in her voice. "Shouldn't I get to decide who I end up with? Perhaps you think that what I deserve is unhappiness and torment, because it's the way it feels to be with Michael and not with you. Do you get that?"

"I do." He swallowed, and looked back at the road. "Trust me, I do."

A silence slowly set in, and Sara rested her head against the headset. She had experienced before how hard it was to hold on and know that you'll have to stop. She was experiencing now how confusing and wonderful it was to hold on still, without a remote intention to let go.


	21. Chapter 21

_"__I'm a difficult man to love."_

_Once upon a time_

…

Sara only realized she had caught some sleep after she opened her eyes. Her head was still resting on Kellerman's knees, and he was staring at the road with a half serious air.

"How much longer till we get to Sunnydale?" She asked.

"Fifteen minutes, give or take."

"Are you sure you don't want to make that U-Turn?"

"No." He answered, and glanced at her with a smile. "But we have to go back."

She sighed. "I know that. Gee, when did you become the responsible one?"

"I haven't." He joked. "I'm just giving you a break because you've been under a lot of stress, tomorrow I'll make you hate me more than you used to."

"Really?" She arched a brow, acting intrigued. "How will you pull that?"

"Well, for starters I'll brag. I'll be confident, annoying, sexy as hell. Oh, and if you thought I was a tease before, trust that you haven't met me when it comes to –"

"Okay." She interrupted with a smile. "I get the picture."

For a moment, they said nothing and things seemed fine. Then she watched him grown serious, and he suggested. "Maybe you should sit up straight now. We're going to be here in a few minutes, so unless you want Michael to find out about us with your head on my knees…"

"Right." She nodded, and sat back into her seat with an odd awkwardness. She glanced at Kellerman, staring at the road, and swallowed without understanding why. It wasn't really that she couldn't bear not to touch him, but sometimes he grew so cold and harsh – maybe it just felt like, as long as she was in his arms, he wouldn't change his ways without a warning.

When they pulled in the garage, Kellerman got out and opened the door for her before she could do so. And before they opened the door, he stroked a finger across her unarmed shoulder to give her some courage – maybe he just did it because now, he could.

She spotted Michael on the couch right away, and when she walked in his face took on an apologetic air. He got up immediately and gathered her in his arms, and Sara tensed in his hold. Just seeing him act as though their love was still the most logical thing in the word was confusing – holding him after enduring a particularly gruesome abduction hadn't stopped making sense to her. Michael was still the man she had fallen in love with, and his embrace felt natural and comforting. She closed her eyes, and caught herself enjoying it. There were strong odds that he would hate her by the end of the day, and Michael's hate was something she didn't yet know how to handle.

"My god, Sara." He whispered, and locked a hand around the back of her head to hold tighter. "I thought I might never see you again."

"So did I." She said, and her sadness came as an odd surprise – as though she hadn't expected that she would grieve Michael Scofield's love.

Kellerman's hands tightened into fists. He had expected that after what had happened in the car, maybe he wouldn't be so jealous and worried that despite everything he and Sara had gone through, she was still going to deny.

"I'm so sorry I left you there on your own." Michael went on.

"I'm all right."

This led him to pull away almost immediately, concern pervading his blue eyes. He assessed her physical state for less than ten seconds before letting out. "Oh god."

Buffy Summers, who Sara had spotted sitting on the couch as well next to Michael, got up to join them by the door. "Hi, Sara. I'm so glad we got to you and I'm sorry to kill the celebration, but you don't look so good."

"Her shoulder and wrists are injured." Kellerman said with such impassivity you'd have to know to tell that he cared. "She's got a nasty cut on her collarbone, and you're going to want to take a look at her head, she hit it pretty badly."

Sara blinked, almost startled at the lack of emotion in his tone.

"All right." Buffy nodded. "We'll get you back to your old room, okay Sara? We'll take care of you."

Sara clenched her teeth at the sudden attention on her – only a few more people had entered the room and already she felt crowded, but she tried her best to calm down. She was probably suffering from a little PTSD, which wouldn't be ridiculous considering what had happened. Nevertheless, the thought of being left some privacy with Michael so soon was too scary for her not to protest.

"If it's okay with you I'd rather take the couch."

"Sure." Buffy agreed. "Just lay down then. Can you take off your coat?"

Michael's eyes immediately set on the black jacket and he frowned. It was Kellerman's. He looked at the man immediately, even though he knew it wasn't the right time to be jealous. And anyway, it was pulled out of his mind when the coat was removed and her injuries were in the open. Rage made him dig his nails into his palms when he saw the scar that went down to her cleavage, reading T.

"T-Bag was there?"

"He's been taken care of." Kellerman said evasively.

"Wow." Buffy let out, and her nervousness felt oddly reassuring to Sara – it reminded her that she was the doctor here, when Buffy had probably never done this before.

"It's okay." Sara assured. "I'll just need bandaging, no stitches, and no strong painkillers. I'm – allergic." She lied after a brief hesitation. It was better than getting into the whole addiction thing.

"Aren't doctors the worst patients?" Paul teased, and there was something comforting about the way he said it. Something affectionate and close, and a reminder that he was right. She could rest and recover, and nothing would have changed tomorrow.

…

She did sleep a lot more than she was first expecting. For hours, all she did was slumber and open her eyes from time to time, finding that the setting was changing around her, but she was too tired to care why. When she did wake up for good, a bright sun was lightening the whole room, despite the curtains that had been drawn to cover it up. It was morning, and she was in her bedroom. And she wasn't sure who she would find at her side.

"Don't think about getting up yet." She recognized Michael's voice and a twinge of guilt overcame her. She opened her eyes, and spotted him on a chair by the window. He got up to sit down next to her and went on. "You need rest."

"Well, I got some."

"Buffy told me you'd say that," he smiled, "and she also told me to be very firm. Look," he continued more seriously, "I don't know what you've been through yesterday and I can't imagine, but I think it'll be better for you to rest for a few days."

Sara said nothing at that. She knew it was probably more reassuring for him, to imagine that she wouldn't be back training on the field right away, even if she was fine. Maybe it would make him feel less guilty.

Before she could reply, she saw Michael sigh and shake his head with worry. "Listen, I know T-Bag was there with you and I don't want to force you to talk about what happened, but I have to know –"

"He didn't rape me." She interrupted right away – the least she owed him was to put an end to his misery, but it wasn't the reason why she did it. She honestly wanted to assuage his guilt. She might be in love with Kellerman, Michael was still a man she had been willing to die for. He was still the convict who had stolen her heart in Fox River.

"Thank god." Michael let out.

"Actually, you ought to thank Paul." She corrected without thinking, and felt sorry for it a second later. She didn't want to be cruel to him, and lord knew she didn't want to hurt him. Breaking his heart would probably break her own, and this made her think she couldn't endure this for one more moment. "Look," she went on before he could reply, "I wanted to say –"

"Please, Sara." He interrupted. "Before you say anything, you must let me apologize. I've left you alone at the house when those bastards took you –"

"Michael, it's fine."

"No it isn't, I didn't even want to go! I didn't care about the damned assignment, but I'm good with people, Buffy thought I could help and I wanted to help – I always want to help and I ended up leaving you." He shook his head. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, Sara, and somehow I've never put you first."

He covered her cheek with his hand, and his sudden proximity felt so familiar Sara thought she might cry.

"But this ends right now, okay? All the selfishness I've been showing, the righteousness – the only people who need me and can't replace me are you and Linc, so from now on I'll tell the rest of them to find somebody else. I won't ever leave you again."

"God, Michael." She lowered her eyes and bit her lip – she had been unable to hold back the words. If he hadn't stopped right away, she figured she would have screamed, maybe just out of sheer pain.

She met his eyes again before she continued. She owed him at least to look him in the eye while she did it. "Look, I need some time."

"Of course you do. You've been through hell –"

"I mean some alone time, Mike. I just – I think it might be better if we took a break for a while."

"Oh." He looked baffled, but not yet concerned. "Well, of course, whatever you need. Wait, Kellerman doesn't have anything to do with this, does he?"

"No." She lied before she could help it – it sounded like the best thing to do, right now. To do this step by step. "I just mostly need some time alone."

Guiltiness surged in right away. Michael didn't deserved to be pushed around, and he didn't deserve to hang on and think that she would go back to him in the end.

"Sara, of course I understand." He said softly. "You need time, so I'll wait. You've waited for me, now I'll wait for you. I don't care whether it takes a week or a month, or a year."

"No." She shook her head and closed her eyes – damn it, this was a difficult thing to do. Probably the hardest. Part of her didn't want to say this and she knew it. Part of her wanted to grow old with Michael and love him devotedly, but that wasn't fair to either of them and she knew it. She met his eyes again when she finished. "I don't want you to wait for me, Michael."

He looked at her calmly – calmer than she had expected. "Why not? Don't you love me anymore?"

"Of course I love you."

"Then what is it?"

It was the right time to come clean. She knew it, but something held her back. There was probably nothing more difficult in this world than to tell somebody you loved that you loved someone else more.

"Is it because of yesterday?" He asked. "I know I shouldn't have left you, it was all my fault. The company wanted me, and T-Bag just wanted to get back at me –"

"Michael, stop." She interrupted pleadingly. "I don't blame you, I've never blamed you and I never will. It's not because I've been hurt or because we don't love each other, it's just – there's so much that's happened between us, so much misery."

"It wasn't _all_ misery."

She knew it was unfair for her to play this card, especially because what had happened between her and Michael did not compare to what Paul had put her through – it would never compare.

"Don't you remember our first day inside this house?" He went on. "You told me you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. Was that misery?"

"Don't do this, please."

"I'm the one who should be begging. You need to tell me if things have changed Sara, or if you still want that, if you still want me."

"I do, I just –" She clenched her teeth and forced herself to calm down. "I can't anymore. I'm sorry, Michael, I'll always love you, but this isn't because of you –"

"Then it's Kellerman."

"No."

"Now is a good time to be honest, Sara. Did you never love me enough? Did the time we spend together in Fox River and in Sunnydale mean anything?"

"I can't believe you're asking me that." She shook her head. "I gave up everything for you, Michael. I gave up my job, my life, and when the company came for me I protected you and your brother, I took the tape that my father left me even if it meant I would never be left alone! I loved you all right. I think I loved you more than you've ever loved me, for what it's worth. But this can't work anymore. I just need time to think about what happened to me without being reminded why."

He was silent a second, then he nodded. "All right. Then we'll take a break."

"I don't want us to avoid each other in the field, Michael, this can't possibly become some petty separation. You matter so much to me –"

"You do too." He assured, and for a moment he sounded so understanding that Sara had the feeling this was all going to be okay. "We can be friends for a while if that's what you need, Sara, I'll always be here for you. I'll be whatever you need me to be."

He smiled, and she smiled too. The thought that she might get to keep both Paul and Michael in her life was wonderful and she let it play for some time.

"I'll miss you." She said – couldn't help it.

"I'll miss you too." He said naturally. "If you need to be alone, Sara, then I guess I'll go." He got up with a smile, so gentle and understanding she couldn't help but smile back. "It's going to be okay." He said comfortingly. "We'll be okay, Sara, don't worry. I mean, it's not like we're going to see other people or something."

She opened her mouth, but no words got out. When Michael walked out the door, her mouth was still ajar. This was undoubtedly the worst breakup to ever be.

…

Although Sara figured she was probably excused from training for the day, she wanted to go. She figured that it was better than being left alone to think of Michael, or Paul, or what she had gone through in that abandoned house.

She was just about to go out when she heard someone knock. And although it sounded ridiculous, she recognized his way of knocking. The thought made her stifle a smile.

"Paul?"

"Can I come in?" He replied.

"It's probably not a good idea."

"Is that a no?"

She rolled her eyes and let him through. She couldn't help but feel relaxed immediately.

"How did it go?" He wondered before saying anything else.

"Horribly." He smirked despite his will, and she glared daggers at him with her eyes as a consequence. "You could at least pretend to show sympathy."

"I'm sorry, I just –" He shook his head. He just couldn't really believe that he had gotten this lucky. "Sorry." He repeated. "So, I assume it's too soon for me to kiss you or hold you in public. Do you think we should start by holding hands so that your ex doesn't suffer from a heart attack?"

"You know what, Paul? Now is probably the worst of all times to tease."

"Why?" He gave her a knowing look. "You didn't tell him about us, did you?"

"I couldn't." She sighed. "It all happened so fast, Paul. A week ago only I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him and so did he. It was too soon for the both of us."

"So you didn't break up with Michael."

"I did. Sort of." She shrugged. "But he doesn't know that you had anything to do with it and I'd like it to stay that way for a while."

"I see." He nodded, and although he looked serious she knew he was teasing – he had given her a warning. "Well, then what's the plan, honey? I get out of this room now before your angry husband finds me in the closet again?"

"Well, for starters we'll have to have a conversation about pet names, and there is no plan. The idea is that Michael and I stay friends, so we don't have to lose each other's affection, and I'll wait for the right time to suggest that we see other people."

"And you don't think that for you to be seeing me, of all people, is going to put a brutal ending to your friendship?"

"You've got a better idea maybe? Look, we just have to wait until us being together is right. In a few months –"

"A few months? That's a few months without kissing in public or – something tragically worse than that?"

Sara let out a sigh. "It's not just for Michael. It wouldn't feel right to me to be with you when I've only just ended one of the most serious relationships in my life."

"Okay." He nodded immediately, trying to improvise. "So we'll remain private, I'm okay with that. I'm okay with just knowing that we'll be together in the end."

"Thank you."

"So, it's a bit like secret dating?"

"Well," she shrugged, "in a way. Without late sneaking out at night, I suppose."

"Why not?" He chuckled. "I mean, if I don't sneak out of your room every night, people will notice something is going on, won't they?"

"No they won't. You're not sleeping here, Paul."

She sounded so serious he found he wasn't in the mood to smirk. "Come again?"

"I've just said it, it's way too soon! How could I live with myself if you're here in the bed that Michael was occupying up till last week?"

"Well, sleeping with your very sexy secret boyfriend every night would be a way to get it off your mind." He waited a second to assert. "I won't get away with this, will I?"

"I'm sorry. I don't want to feel guilty for our first time, at the risk of sounding like an inexperienced schoolgirl, I want it to be perfect. Don't you care that we would be having sex when last week I was kicking you out of my bed?"

"At the risk of sounding like a horny jerk, not really."

"Well, I do. So you better behave."

But his grin didn't indicate good behavior. Not at all.

"Well," he feigned to agree, "can I still share your bed?"

"Not if you're going to try and seduce me."

"What? Afraid you'll give in?"

"No." She lied. "But we need some ground rules, and the first is that if you want to sleep in this bed, you'll keep your hands to yourself."

"Do your rules allow kissing?"

"Hum –"

"Can I nibble your earlobe?"

"Most definitely not." He laughed, and she gave him a glare. "Wow, you think you're so in control right now, that you don't really have to listen to any of this."

"Well, I don't mean to offend you, honey, but you were already incapable of behaving yourself when you were dating Michael."

She shook her head with a mirthless chuckle. "My, aren't you full of yourself. So what am I, your conquered land?"

"Don't be like that."

"You're in for a big surprise, Kellerman. I'm sticking to those rules."

"Sure you are." He nodded, but he must have been unable to contain a smile because she was still glaring.

"Fine. Get out of my room."

"Please, honey –"

"Out." She repeated. "Buffy gave me this room to allow me privacy and rest, I intend to enjoy both and apparently, it's not going to be possible with you around."

"Oh Sara, darling," he teased, "will you really let me sleep all by myself on a harsh cold floor when this bed is way too big for you?"

"I will if you keep calling me stupid pet names."

"What will it be then?" He said, low but serious. "Angel? Little dove? My sweet, sweet lamb?"

Sara swallowed. "Honestly, you should go. I'm just going to rest."

"Really? Weren't you just about to go out when I stepped in?"

"Yes, hum… I'm feeling tired now."

"Wonderful. I would like to catch some sleep myself, would you leave me some room? I promise to behave."

Sara assessed his behavior. Ultimately, she caved in with an eye-roll and lay on the bed. She closed her eyes, and although she was aware she had just had just asked Kellerman to go, part of her hoped he had stayed.

Her eyes opened wide when she felt his hands on her feet. "What are you doing?"

"What? You intended to sleep with your shoes on? Come on, it's not as though I'm removing your shirt."

He kicked off his own shoes and joined her in bed, above the covers for good measure. "Relax." He said, closing his eyes. "Like I said, at worst I'll hide in the closet."

"Why am I letting you stay here?" She sighed.

"It feels empty without me."

She shook her head, but snuggled against him still. "It does feel empty without you." She admitted.

She felt the urge to kiss him, but she felt exhausted and besides a kiss with Kellerman would never stop at one kiss the way it sometimes did with Michael. Sometimes, it occurred to her that this love was going to consume them both until nothing but cinders was left.

He seemed to read her mind and behaved, relatively, pressing kisses to her forehead and her uninjured shoulder, then both of her cheeks and her jaw line, anywhere but her lips. He was basically on top of her now but his kisses were innocent, and she didn't have the will to retort. Finally he kissed the top of her head and straightened into a more decent posture, wrapping his arms around her. "If you want to rest you should." He said innocently.

Well, now of course she wasn't so much in the mood for it, but she said nothing of that and closed her eyes. Then without much of a warning, she felt Kellerman's weight overhang her body and his lips crushed against hers, softly. Too softly for her to fight it. She could never resist him when he was gentle. He snaked a hand beneath the nape of her neck to draw her closer and deepen the kiss, and soon he was lying above her completely with one leg on each side of her, and she forgot everything about the reasons why this was wrong.

She slid her fingers under his shirt, eager to discover the same chest that had made her blush two days ago, when she had seen him half naked in the field. She opened a few buttons randomly and kissed the inches of skin discovered – his abdomen, then his belly button, until he gripped her wrists wildly and pinned her to the bed.

"You're going to drive me crazy, you know." He breathed hoarsely, and kissed her before she had time to reply.

Summoning the strength to resist, Sara brought his hands down to an appropriate level and tore from his lips. "I meant what I said earlier. We really can't do this, Paul."

"Come on, honey. I swear I won't tease you about how your rules lasted less than ten minutes."

He slivered a hand up her thigh and her eyes shut despite her will, so she could only hear him pull down the zipper of her jeans. She could feel him smirk against her neck, but right now she didn't care that he was being an arrogant ass. She would be mad at him later. She arched her back to help him rid her of her pants, and he smiled at her compliance. His hand travelled up skillfully across her panties until he met the right place, and he removed it just as she jerked her hips forward against him.

She should have known that he would be a tease about this. After all, she had gotten a fair warning. He kissed her before she could complain and moved his fingers upwards again.

"You know," he said, and although he wasn't smirking, his tone was low and sensual and he might as well be, "you never technically made a rule against this."

She suddenly wanted to yell at him, but she was getting more and more aroused and she was afraid she wouldn't yell the right words.

"Well," he cocked his head to the side in consideration, "I suppose breaking the rules never harmed anyone, once in a while." He buried his face in her neck without another word and closed his lips around her lobe, until she was sighing in frustration and excitement, but not quite fighting him off.

She could have said no at any point and she knew it.

Before she had much time to ponder on this though, knocks were pounded on the door and she let out a loud gasp. Paul didn't stand up still or freeze the way she did, and she needed to chase him away by hammering her fingers against his chest.

"Relax, Sara." He said calmly. "It's probably just Buffy."

"Closet." She ordered.

"I'm telling you –"

"No negotiating. Get in that closet, now."

He complied, but smirked all the way through, and just as he locked himself in, the knocking pursued. "Sara?" She recognized Buffy's voice and sighed. Paul was going to be unlivable after this. "Can I come in?"

"Sure."

Buffy stepped in and briefly looked around her. "Hey." She said once she looked at the young woman. "I was just checking up on you, I wanted to make sure you were okay and tell you that you don't need to go back to the field until you're ready."

"Thanks. That's very kind, but I'm fine, really."

"You're sure?" The young woman insisted with a slight smile. "Then are you going to let out the man who is hiding in your closet or will I have to?"

Sara held back from choking. Was that a slayer instinct or something? "I don't see what you're talking about."

Buffy shook her head. "Never mind, it's not my business."

Kellerman stepped out of the closet before Sara could say a word. "Paul!" She admonished.

"What? She already knew about it, and I was smothering in there."

Sara shook her head, humiliated. "Look, this really isn't what it looks like."

"Please, Sara. You've just been abducted ant tortured, I'm not going to blame you. I'm going to blame Paul. Are you aware that you're taking advantage of a traumatized woman?"

"He's not." Sara insisted. "I broke up with Michael, I just haven't told him about Paul yet because I want to take it easy on him. Look, there won't be any more fighting I swear."

"And if anything," Paul went on, "she's the one who is taking advantage of me, not the other way around. She invited me in her bed and basically jumped on me. She's an injured woman, how could I not indulge her?"

"Just please, don't tell Michael." Sara said. "He's really not ready to hear it yet."

"It's none of my business, of course I won't tell him." She said. "This being said, the two of you aren't being as discreet as you think you are. I mean, what if Michael had stepped in right now and not me?"

"Point taken." Sara said.

"Fine. Well, I really hadn't planned to lecture either of you so I'm going to go, just – be good kids, all right?" Then she left, and closed the door behind her.

Paul let out an audible sigh. "So. Should we pick up where we left off? What?" He said when she glared at him. She got up to open the door and he rolled his eyes. "Come on, Sara, don't leave."

"I'm not leaving, you are."

"Wait. Are you mad at me?"

"Of course I am! You broke all of my rules."

"Right, I'm the only one to blame."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, all I did was kiss you, which was totally fine according to your rules. You're the one who started undressing me." Sara opened her mouth but didn't manage to retort. She hated that he was right. "Actually," he added with a grin, "I think you're the one who can't behave when we're together."

"Wait, you're the one who –"

"Who let you undress me? Well," he shrugged, "I fail to see what kind of man would say no to you, honey."

She shut her mouth without knowing what to retort. "Just shut up, Paul."

"I could fill a book with all the times you've said that."

"Will you quit acting like this is funny? I broke up with Michael an hour ago."

He nodded, serious again. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you. So, rule number three, there can't be any more kissing."

"Now come on, that's exaggerated."

"We're not discussing this. Whenever you kiss me I lose the will to fight you, so no kissing."

"And if I promise to behave?"

"You'll break that promise and we both know it."

He flashed a smirk, way too handsome to be harmless. "Do you know how much I love you right now?" He leaned in to kiss her, and gripped at her hands to anticipate any struggle.

"No." She protested before he could reach her lips, deflecting her face from him. "There's no way I'm letting you."

"You want to bet?" He let go of her hands to grab her face, both firm and sensual, a mix he knew she could never resist. He managed to steal a kiss, and although her hands were now free to hammer against his chest in defense, he hardly noticed it.

He let the kiss deepen until she was responding, then he pulled away and kissed her again once, just enough to get her riled up again. Then he met her eyes and grinned at her visible arousal, charming enough to fool the devil.

"You're despicable." She declared, but it hardly sounded like an accusation.

He nodded at her comment and said for a reply. "Well, I could leave you. But you won't let me."

…

In the end, they both stayed in Sara's room all afternoon and around seven p.m., he went downstairs to get them something to eat.

"You're sure no one saw you get there?" Sara asked cautiously, and he gave her an affectionate eye-roll.

"I was a professional spy for fifteen years, Sara. I think I'm okay."

They ate noodles in carton boxes, and it brought both of them back to the past, eating Chinese food in her apartment. It didn't just feel nostalgic, and Sara's throat knotted slightly – once again, she wondered if any of this was going to work out in the end, if things could even work out at all, when there was such a complicated past behind them.

Then she remembered how it used to feel to fight her feelings for Paul, how difficult and vain, and she realized it didn't matter. She would try. It was the only thing left to do for them both, at this stage.

"Did you lock the door?" She asked to enroll conversation – also, hoping that she might relax.

"Yes." He answered, calmly.

Too calmly. She knew that if she was feeling sad now then he was probably feeling guilty, and it reassured her somehow. It made her want to reassure _him_, as she did in the beginning. For a moment, she thought that this love really didn't make sense. Then she thought that if she couldn't escape it anyhow, it really didn't matter whether it made sense anyway.

Kellerman cleared his throat, and went on as an attempt to joke. "Though it isn't really necessary, given we're not doing anything forbidden."

She smiled, and entered his game. "There's nothing wrong with being careful, and that's just what we're doing."

"Using condoms is being careful." He argued. "This is paranoid behavior."

They both chuckled, and for a moment things lightened up again and Sara managed to smile. "Well, we both know that if we start on that road we're not going to want to stop."

"You weren't complaining this afternoon."

She gave him a kick in the ribs instead of a reply, and he smiled back. "You know, those rules of yours are never going to work. You'll never be able to hold back from kissing me for a few months. You'll manage a day, maybe two, but by then the tension between us will be unbearable and something is very likely to – snap. The best would really be that we practice kissing and touching without losing control."

Sara swallowed. She knew she was making this easy on him and on the other hand, she couldn't see the harm in what he was suggesting – it actually did sound logical, in a way.

…

Twenty minutes later, she thought it was an even better idea. They weren't touching apart from their lips, and the slight brushing of their legs against each other's.

"See?" Kellerman said smugly. "All we need is a little practice." He pressed his palm against her cheek to kiss her again, the contact both tender and passionate.

When it became so intense that she forgot to breathe, Sara knew they needed to stop and she pulled away. Desire was jamming her willpower, but she managed to get a grip. She stared into Paul's blue eyes, who was looking at her with a half pleased surprise. He was always taken aback when she pulled away. Never thought she'd have it in her.

She kissed him back before he could smirk or say something overly confident, and she drew back again when he slid a finger up her thigh.

"I don't think so, Paul." She said, and knew she shouldn't have sounded so smug herself but couldn't help it.

"But you want to."

"There are more important things than what I want."

"Like what I want?"

"Cute. Did you ever hear of the expression 'the ink's not even dry yet'?"

A few moments later, knocks were pounded on the door and Sara tried not to panic – but she was no longer in the mood to tease and she couldn't deny it.

"Should I hide in the closet?" Kellerman asked.

"No." She tried to reason with herself. "No, we're just friends having a talk, it's okay."

He was slightly startled at her reaction but said nothing of it, and he remained sitting next to her on the bed when the door opened. Michael stepped inside, and Sara swallowed coyly. She saw the young man's expression distort with surprise, and his eyes set on the empty carton boxes at the foot of the bed.

"Michael." Sara said, the greeting lightly awkward. "Paul was just keeping me company."

"Of course, I just – I was going to ask you if you wanted to have dinner but apparently –"

"Yes, I…" She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, Paul stopped by and we just –"

"I get it." He nodded. "I mainly just wanted to see if you were okay."

"I am." She assured, and thought of getting up, but ultimately decided it would feel even more awkward. "Is there anything you wanted to tell me?" She regretted the words immediately because it felt as though she was chasing him away, but Michael spoke before she could apologize.

"Actually, could I borrow Kellerman for a while?"

She arched her brows in complete startle and Paul tilted his head to the side. "Of course." He said before she could speak against it. "How about the field? It should be deserted by now."

"Why not?" Michael agreed, and he gave Sara a glance and smiled reassuringly. "I'll see you soon."

"Sure." She said, unable to mask her anxiety.

Both men walked downstairs and reached the field, which was indeed empty. "Well," Kellerman said. "Now we're here. What is there to talk about?"

Michael shrugged, with an honest air. "For starters, I wanted to thank you. For saving Sara. I also wanted to yell at you for cutting short our conversation when I thought she was dead, but that's – it's forgotten."

Paul nodded, still invisibly cautious. "All right."

"I don't know if she's talking to you about it, if it's maybe easier for her to talk to you, but she isn't talking to me. That worries me. I don't think she's fully facing what happened to her yesterday."

Kellerman remained impassive, but felt oddly guilty for a moment. Maybe Buffy was right and he had taken advantage of her, a little bit. He felt suddenly relieved that Buffy had interrupted them earlier.

"Anyway," Michael went on, "I was hoping to talk to her but maybe you already have. Maybe you think this is the ideal timing to take care of her, Kellerman."

Paul noted the accusation. He would be ready to fight Michael at any time, but it would only be something that Sara would be mad about.

"I get that you're the one who saved her," he went on, "you were there for her that night, I get that it brings her to feel safe around you and that it gets you to think that maybe, things are different now."

Kellerman smiled, humorless. "I suppose you think that you know it better than I do, this being said she is safe with me. And she will be for as long as she cares to."

"I know what kind of person you are, Kellerman. What kind of man." Michael shook his head. "Sara sees the best in people, of course, she ended up working in a penitentiary, but I'm scarcely wrong about them. You're a snake."

Kellerman clenched his teeth.

"You let people believe that you care for them and you make them feel like they're your whole world, but men like you – men like you never truly feel anything. And even if you do love her Paul, even if she's an exception to that iced heart of yours somehow, you'll hurt her anyway."

"I suggest you shut your mouth."

"You're a violent man, Paul. It's in your bones. All snakes bite in the end, even if they could feel pity or remorse."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that I won't let you push Sara around and rough her up when you feel like it. What, are you going to deny?" He said at the rage in Kellerman's gaze. "Didn't you do it already? From what I understood, you hurt her far worse than Bagwell did."

Paul grabbed him before he could add a word and pushed him against the wall. "You ever compare me to him again and I'll –"

"What, you'll kill me? Go ahead, you bastard! You still want to try and deny that you're a violent man? You've hurt her, Paul. And you know that you could do it again, if she gets you upset enough."

"I'll never raise a hand on her again. I'm not that man anymore."

"Who are you trying to convince here?" He was silent for a second, then he reiterated. "What did you do to her, Paul? That one night, after she admitted she had let you kiss her, she came to me crying and said she never wanted to see you again. What did you do to her then?"

"What did I do?" Kellerman repressed the anger that the boy's words stirred in him. "What did _you_ do? Who's fault was it this time if Sara was tortured by a sadistic rapist?"

"Shut up."

"They came after _you_! Caroline gave the order to kill her, by the time I got there she could have been dead. She _would_ have been dead, if Bagwell hadn't decided to have fun with her first. So which is worst, Michael? That you owe her life to him, or to me?"

Michael pushed him away brutally and shoved him into the wall.

"Well." Kellerman commented. "Look who is losing his temper now."

"Let's get one thing clear. I love Sara and she loves me, and I'm not going to let you take advantage of what happened to prey on her furthermore. She needs time to heal. It's no opportunity for you to take."

"I'll be there for her." He said. "Don't think I won't."

"No, sure you will. Just keep in mind that if you abuse her in the state she's in, you'll go to an extremely special stage of hell."

"Yeah, that is starting to sink in."

"Good." Michael said, then a silence settled in and the young man appraised Kellerman's face. It had to be the confidence with which he had spoken, or maybe just something about his smile – something knowing.

It was pointless to feed this argument and Kellerman knew it, Sara would kill him if he hurt her ex, and so he tried to think of something to say to cut short the conversation, but Michael was faster.

"Are you sleeping with her?" He asked with sudden suspicion – and a lot of seriousness.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Michael said, his voice icy cold. "Are you fucking my girlfriend?"


	22. Chapter 22

_'__And as they both sink beneath the waves, the frog cries out, "Why did you sting me, Mr. Scorpion? For now we both will drown!" Scorpion replies, "I can't help it. __It's in my nature!__"'_

_The Crying Game_

…

Sara was sitting down on her bed, trying to convince herself that Michael and Kellerman weren't currently killing each other. On the other hand, she had trouble picturing either of them having a normal conversation or plainly doing guy things, less alone with each other. The thought of checking on them did cross her mind, but she didn't want to appear as the paranoid girlfriend. To either of them.

A relieved sigh escaped her when someone knocked on the door. She went to open right away. "Paul, what took you so –" She interrupted herself right away. "Elena."

"Hey." The young girl said timidly. "I just – I heard about what happened to you, I understand if you need to be alone but if you wanted to talk or – you know, just not be alone, I figured I'd stop by."

Sara forced on a smile. She wasn't quite the visitor she was expecting, but the distraction was a welcomed one. "Come on in. I've got some Chinese leftovers to finish."

…

Kellerman stood perfectly still, stupidly unable to answer for a moment. Ultimately, the only answer he managed out – and it wasn't a smart one – was: "For starters, she's your ex-girlfriend."

"And you think that makes it okay for you to jump in and take advantage of her when she's vulnerable?"

"How about you calm down a bit, Scofield."

"Did you sleep with her or not?"

"No." Kellerman answered, and mentally added that it didn't mean he didn't intend to.

Michael assessed his honesty for a while before he pursued. "Then what were you doing in her room today?"

"You're upset because she let me in while she pushed you away? That's understandable. My advice is that you let her be for the moment."

"That's funny. I was just going to advise you to do the same thing."

"The thing is, Sara doesn't want me to leave." Kellerman smiled, and had to make an effort to cool things down at the young man's visible anger. "Easy now, I didn't come here to fight you. Sara would be horribly angry at me if I did."

"Do as you please." Michael shot back. "I only ask that you recall that, a long time ago, I told you that if you didn't forget about her, it would be the end of you. Maybe you didn't get this clear enough, so I'll spell it out. You're nothing, Paul. You're a mere interference among many others that got between me and her."

Kellerman forced himself to grin, and it came out looking half genuine. "We'll see about that."

"You truly think that she would choose you over me?"

Paul shrugged, and the smile on his face didn't go anywhere. "Well, time will tell, Michael. May the best man win."

…

"You know, I'm grateful you came." Sara told Elena, not without sounding a bit nervous – if Kellerman came back while the young girl was still in her bedroom, one more person would be in on their relationship.

"You want to talk about what happened?"

"Oh no. Not at all." Sara was categorical on this. Besides, it would probably give the young girl nightmares.

"What were these people even after?"

"Michael." Sara didn't even feel bad at the confession – honestly, before she saw the look on Elena's face, she didn't even register it as odd. "It's okay. I mean, it wasn't his fault. He would have traded his place with mine if he could have."

"So he came to found you?"

"Actually –"

The door opened before Sara could finish, and Kellerman stepped in the room. Elena lowered her eyes and cleared her throat. "Right. I should go."

"No, really –"

"It's okay, Sara." The young girl gave her a smile. "We'll talk later."

Kellerman let out a sigh once they were alone. "I probably should have knocked."

"That's okay, I don't think the secret is at risk with her. So, what did Michael want to talk to you about?"

"Well, he said this quarrel between us was ridiculous and we should both stop, in your sake."

"Really?"

"No. By god, you're gullible. He told me I was nowhere near good enough for you then asked if I was fucking you."

"Paul!"

"What? I'm literally quoting him."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him the truth, that I wasn't. Unfortunately."

"Could you stay serious for a moment?"

"Well, I suppose the most obvious issue is that he still believes you're going back to him."

Sara let out a sigh. "It's only been a day, Paul. He'll need some time."

He was silent for a moment, then wondered bluntly. "What about you, do you believe him?"

"Believe what?"

He shrugged. "That I'm not good enough for you?"

Sara closed her eyes with an exhale. "Of course not, that's –"

"Come on, Sara, at least consider this. I'm counting my blessings from the moment you chose me, I just want to know whether you did it because you love me, or because you thought that I would make you happy."

"The two sort of go along."

"Not always."

She took his face in both her hands. "They do for me. Now shut up, lock that door and come to bed with me."

"Now, that sounds more like you already." She kicked him in the ribs then went to bed, and waited for him to join her. "So, I do get to sleep in this bed?"

"Only if you behave _remarkably_." She sighed, only because she knew he wasn't going to take her warning seriously. She planted a kiss against his jaw-line as a goodnight, then one on the corner of his lips and finally on the mouth.

Oh well. Heat immediately burned at them both, and she realized neither of them would be in the mood to sleep for a long while. And really, she had started it. Maybe he was right and she was the one who couldn't behave around him.

"I really shouldn't have kissed you, should I." She said, and it didn't sound like a question. Her body was already protesting that she had pulled away.

"You probably shouldn't have." Kellerman agreed. He dived in and crushed his lips against hers, rolling on top of her. With a corner of his eye, he could see her shirt lowering and discovering the fresh scar near her cleavage. The image didn't fill him with guiltiness or disgust, and yet he pulled away without thinking.

It left a startled look on Sara's face. "Is there a problem?"

"No."

"Hey, wait a second. I know that tone, it's the 'we can't do this tone', but I'm usually the one who gets to use it."

"So now I'm getting scolded for actually behaving?" He let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Sara. Don't think that I don't want to kiss you, because not touching you right now is physically starting to hurt, but I've been hearing through and through today how traumatized you should be. Consider it's my way of saying I'm letting you off the hook."

The puzzlement on her face was ridiculous. He reckoned he really had to look like a horny prick most of the time. To finish her, he added. "Don't you think we should talk instead?"

"Okay. Now I really can't believe it."

"I'm serious, Sara. If yesterday's still on your mind, you should talk about it."

"To say what?" She shrugged, without looking casual. "I'm sorry if it makes it harder on you, Paul, but I don't know how to talk about it. I could coldly go over every sequence of it if you like, it's a skill I acquired as a doctor, but I can't get it off my chest." A sarcastic chuckle escaped her when she remembered the sting of Bagwell's signature near her bra. "No pun intended."

"I never want to push you to talk if you don't want to, Sara. Actually, I can promise you right now that I will never again make you say or do something that you don't want to do. But I do think that keeping this in right now and for as long as you can might make you feel one day as though, if you hold it in for one more second, you're going to scream."

Sara lowered her eyes, gaining in seriousness. "It didn't seem to stop you earlier, before Buffy interrupted us."

"I regret that." He said, honestly. "You were probably trying to distract yourself, and I let you use my irresistible body when I should have been the good guy and said no."

She couldn't repress a slight laugh. "Paul, listen, what happened with T-Bag –" She shook her head. "It doesn't have anything to do with what happened between us the next day. You didn't have to stop me."

"Maybe. But Michael would have."

Sara inhaled sharply. "What does Michael have to do in this conversation, Paul?"

Kellerman shrugged, but through his perennial attitude, he didn't look nonchalant – he didn't even look impassive. "He's the good guy, Sara." He ultimately said, and finished with a cold resignation. "And I… I can never be that guy."

He got up from the bed and walked to the window, and although Sara supposed it was his request for privacy, she followed him despite herself. For a moment, she was brought back to the day he had spared her life in the woods. She had never seemed able to leave him to his grief.

She snaked her hands around his chest and held him, her front pressed against his back. Kellerman closed his eyes. Just being close to her was already taking his pain away, against any logic.

"Listen." She whispered softly. "Earlier you asked if I had chosen you because I loved you, or because I thought you would make me happy. The answer is simple, really. I love you, and because of that, without you, I can't be happy. Don't think that I didn't try. But yesterday, when I thought that I was going to die, everything I had done to make myself not love you really seemed ridiculous. Life's too short, Paul. It doesn't matter that no one in this household will understand us." She had never least cared about being understood. "It doesn't matter that our love goes against moral. You're the one thing that I got right." She pressed a kiss against his shoulder. "So you might not think that you're the good guy, but you're the right one. That much, you have to believe."

She unlaced her hands from his chest, and he drew her back to him the moment he felt her pull away. He gripped at her forearm tightly and kissed her before he could even think. He couldn't resist sliding one hand through her auburn hair, and used his hold on the back of her head to draw her even closer. It didn't take a moment's pause for her to react and cup his face with her hands, until they were snaking beneath his shirt, and they only tore apart for a few seconds to remove it. Sara couldn't really think about her rules anymore. It occurred to her that for the first time since she had met Michael Scofield, she was acting selfishly.

Kellerman himself didn't think that this might considered as taking advantage of a vulnerable woman. Right now, kissing Sara didn't feel like a desire more than like a need. Her clothes seemed like unnecessary hindrances, and he managed to remove her top without her complaining. He grabbed her by the waist softly and lifted her up, and it took her a moment to think of wrapping her legs around his hips, and by then Kellerman was kissing the fabric of her bra.

This much got her to think about the scar, and about yesterday – and the fact that, yesterday, she was still committed to Michael. Before she had a chance to slow down, Kellerman lay her down on the bed. He settled between her legs, and the contact felt so natural she couldn't think of holding him back – until the breakup that had happened in this very room came back to her, word by word, and her ex-boyfriend's voice was all she could think about. _It's not as though we're going to start seeing other people or anything_.

She managed to unhook for Kellerman's lips while he was unclasping her bra. "Stop." She let out, apologetic but serious and resigned. "We can't." She added so he would look up at her – and the disappointment in his eyes was flagrant.

"You're kidding, right?"

She let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Paul. It's not that I don't want to, trust me, but this isn't right. I'm only going to be thinking about Michael."

The look in his eyes caught fire, but he held back the anger in his voice. "So. You're never truly going to belong to either of us, are you?"

"Part of me will always love him, Paul." She said, controlling her own voice. She didn't want to sound weary or annoyed and turn this into an argument. "I'm not going to apologize for that."

"Nor should you."

"It doesn't mean that I don't love you. It doesn't mean that I'm not yours –"

"And how many times did you say that to him?" He sounded petty to his own ears, but couldn't seem able to stop.

She clenched her teeth. "That's low, Paul."

He ignored that and got out of bed. This time, she didn't follow him and a cold feeling spread inside her while she watched him put on his clothes. "Tell me, Sara. How much longer is Michael Scofield going to remain a part of you?"

"How do you expect me to answer that?" She let out an angry exhale. She forbade herself to cry right now. "You know, sometimes I wish you would give me a warning before you turn into a complete prick."

"I'm sorry. The thought that you're still in love with your ex doesn't exactly fill me with joy."

"I do love him, Paul. But I love you more." Another sigh escaped her lips, both tired and ironic. "But that's not enough for you. You know, I can't see why you hate Michael so much when in the end, you're a lot alike. Nothing that I do is ever enough for either of you."

He turned to her, and the anger in his eyes still looked dangerous, but not threatening. He would never threaten her again, and yet fear spread inside of her immediately. She knew she shouldn't be comparing him to Michael, she knew how much it hurt him, but she felt angry enough not to care – she felt angry enough to _want_ to hurt him.

Now though, she was mainly just afraid that he would leave without a word. "Paul." She didn't quite sound pleading. She really didn't want to have to beg him.

"If you want me out of this bed, I'll go."

He sounded so cold sometimes she wondered how he could even feel anything. She clenched her jaw and tried not to lower her eyes. She had learned never to lower her head to Paul Kellerman.

"Fine." She said, harsh short of being cold. "You know, I hadn't understood that sex was so important to you. I should have known it was the only reason you were interested in spending the night."

"Hey, don't put this on me."

"What, you think I'm to blame? The only thing I'm asking of you is that you _wait_ for me."

"Until Michael knows about us? Come on, Sara. That's not the reason. The reason you don't want to do this is that you don't want to do something to make him hate you, because you're not sure you truly want to do about this. You want to be able to change your mind and go back to him."

A humorless scoff parted her lips, completely stunned. "Oh my god. Could you be any more stupid? I thought that telling you I loved you was irreversible enough as it was, but apparently you need physical proof. Tell me, Paul. Exactly _when_ are you going to stop worrying that I'll go back to Michael?"

"That's not what it's about."

"But it is! You're like an animal claiming its territory, you would pee all over me if it could prove Michael I belonged to you! You know what? You're mad about the reasons why I won't sleep with you? Well, I'm mad about the reason why you want to."

"Come on, Sara. That is _not_ the reason."

"Well then, I'll tell you what. There are plenty of women in this house, so why don't you just get out of my room and sleep with one of them? Get lucky elsewhere, Paul. Get out."

He faced her for a moment, so angry he thought he was going to strangle her or go mad. He let out a furious exhale before he walked out and slammed the door. Once she was alone, Sara allowed herself a few tears. She knew that Paul had needed her to choose him tonight but honestly, she was tired of putting the people she loved first.

…

Kellerman had to resist the urge to slam his fist into a wall a few times. He hated that even now, Scofield was still getting between them, and he hated that being with Sara felt like stealing her when she should be his. Right now, the thought felt _logical_. No one would ever love her more strongly than he did. He'd like to see another man try and put a hand on her. She was _his_.

And then, he heard a few sobs coming out of her room, and he stopped in his stride, feeling like the greatest of fools.

How many times had he seen Sara hurt because of Michael, and wished that he could kill the boy for his ignorance? He felt furious enough to kill someone right now, but the truth was, his anger wasn't even justified. What did he have against her exactly? The fact that she had refused to sleep with him, when she had just broken up with a man she adored for him, after being molested and tortured by a psychopath a few days ago only?

"Bloody hell." He let out. He had not had her for a day yet, and he was already doing the thing he had sworn he would never do. Take her for granted.

He walked back inside the room like a storm, and she hastily concealed the pain in her eyes with anger. "Get out, Kellerman."

"No." He argued even though it wasn't his to decide. It was, because if she wanted to kick him out of here tonight, she'd have to make him. He stepped closer to her and held her the moment she was in his reach, and she was still furious so it was probably against her will.

After a few seconds only though, she didn't have the will to fight him. He was sorry. He was an ass and a cold bastard most of the time but for her, he wished he wasn't. And so she let him hold her and slide in bed next to her, and for a moment she felt as though he truly understood how difficult it was.

She had let go of Michael the day before, and she loved him so much. She loved him so, so much.

"Don't leave me tonight." She ordered, and was happy to hear she sounded calm – she really didn't want to cry any more today.

"I won't." He promised. "And I promise, I won't ever pressure you to do something you're not ready to do, even if you want to do it."

"Because of your hot irresistible body?"

"You forgot my one-million dollar charm."

She let out a chuckle, only half amused. "Yesterday, I had to wonder how you would react if I died."

"I know."

"It's too soon."

"I understand."

"And if I die some day, I decided I wanted you to get over me."

"That's not true. That's what people always say, but that's not true. You would want me to be miserable every day for the rest of my life, and I would be."

"Thank you." She smiled when she heard him chuckle, and she added. "I'm sorry I said such horrible things to you."

"Please, don't apologize. You should go to sleep, do you want me to go get your clothes?"

"I'd rather not put them back on to sleep. Do you mind?" She asked, and pulled away to assess his face.

"No." He lied, looking as convincing as ever. He could play the selfless guy who didn't care that a gorgeous half naked woman was snuggling against him to sleep. "I just thought you might be cold."

They both settled beneath the covers, and as his arm brushed against her stomach, he decided it was going to be a long painful night.

"Is it okay if I take off my jeans?"

Was she trying to kill him? She had asked the question with such casualness that for a moment, he realized she genuinely didn't see the harm. He didn't care about that. That woman deserved Mr. Right and he would be him, even if he had to act.

"Of course, honey." He congratulated himself for the casualness in his tone. "Get comfortable. I'm just going to go and lock the door."

Especially, he didn't want to be looking at her when she undressed. He kept his own pants on, so that even though they were starting to feel tight around his groin, she wouldn't notice he was worse than a teenage boy struggling with hormones.

…

Kellerman didn't get much sleep that night. For starters, it was the first full night that he spent with Sara, and the contemplation of her asleep was an activity all of its own. He watched her toss and turn to find the right position, until she was lying stretched out on her tummy, looking peaceful and irresistibly lovely. For some reason, the sight of her like this made him want to go back in time and beat Theodore Bagwell to death.

She let out a sigh when she awoke, not quite opening her eyes. Then she shifted again and turned his back to him, and his own smile disappeared. The cauterized cuts on her back no longer looked fresh, and he stroked a finger across one of them without thinking.

"Don't." He heard Sara say – and it sounded like an order.

He removed his hand immediately. "Don't what?"

"Feel guilty."

"I don't think that's likely to happen." He could still see himself mutilating her. The image was like a burning iron frying his brain.

She turned back to face him, but the sight of her scars was still all he could see. "I said don't." She repeated, seriously. "You've changed since this all happened, I've seen it happen and I've forgiven you." She didn't speak the words lightly.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness." He realized despite himself, without truly sounding miserable. Kellerman was never the kind to linger on self pity. "I don't deserve you."

She feigned to ponder and shrugged, still serious and actually a little annoyed. "You're right. So, should I go back to Michael or –" He kissed her before she could finish, and she figured it was what he would do. When he was done, she let out a chuckle and added. "By the way, you know what you said yesterday, that Michael would have never done what you did? Well, the first time he and I slept together was the day after Bagwell had first tried to assault me. And Michael knew."

Kellerman's jaw fell slack, and Sara got up with an amused eye-roll. "I'll go take a shower." She announced while putting her clothes back on. "If your mouth is still open by the time I get back, I'll play dentist with you."

His mouth closed reflexively and she laughed before disappearing outside. And say that Scofield boy had had the nerves to try to make him feel guilty when –

Suddenly, it occurred to Kellerman that Sara had said something about a shower. Had she deliberately mentioned it as an innocent thing? Maybe it had been an invitation. But then, if he stepped inside her shower cabin and she hadn't meant him to, it could get embarrassing… it could also get to be the best shower of his life. He figured he would take his chances.

He got on his feet as quickly as he could and left the room. He figured at worse she would kick him out and be mad at him one more time, and frankly it was worth the try. He reached the bathroom door and smiled. He could hear the water running.

"Paul." He heard Buffy's voice behind him and turned around to face the young blonde. "It's lucky I ran into you, I was just looking for you."

"Could it wait? I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"Well, although I see exactly why you might want to get inside an occupied bathroom, I feel I have to point out that there is another one downstairs."

Kellerman let out a sigh. Sara better still be in the shower by the time Buffy was done. "Just make your point."

"My point was exactly that the two of you try and be more careful. I don't want any more fighting with Michael."

"Yes, definitely."

"Like next time you sneak out of her bed, try and do it before sunrise."

"Well, she was distraught and I didn't want to leave her. Is that all?"

"You know, while we're talking about discretion, I think you should really use that other bathroom."

Kellerman forced on a smile. He had every intention of waiting for Buffy to be gone and make his move then. "Of course."

"Great. I'll just wait for Sara in the hallway, I think I need to talk to her too."

"You're a real pain in the ass, Blondie."

"Have a nice day too."

…

The hot water felt like acid on Sara's injured shoulder. The witches had done their best to make it heal quicker, and Sara had to admit she had never seen a wound this bad look this good in just forty eight hours, but still, she couldn't hold back from flinching when the water came in contact with it.

She didn't linger in the shower. She put on her clothes rapidly and stepped out, only to run into Buffy Summers in the corridor.

"Hey." The young woman said. "I was hoping I could talk to you."

"Sure." Sara nodded. "What about?"

"I told Willow to wait for you in the attic so she could work on your shoulder again. If you want, she can also do something about your neck." Sara flinched at the mention of the mark Bagwell had made. "It'll leave scarring, no magic will undo that," the girl specified, "but it can be as healed as can be in a matter of weeks rather than years."

"That's really kind and I appreciate it, but I don't want anyone getting worked up over me –"

"Hey now, you're part of my team." Buffy reminded with a smile that Sara half managed to return. "Besides, it's best for us that you're fit to train again as soon as possible."

"Okay."

"And now I understand I'm kind of crossing the line, but I'd also like to talk about Paul."

Sara let out a sigh. "Of course I understand, Buffy. I promise we will both be _extremely_ careful."

"Oh really? Is that why I caught him trying to sneak into your shower this morning?"

Sara blushed both from embarrassment and anger. She was going to kill him. "That won't happen again." She vowed, struggling to sound calm.

…

Kellerman forced himself to train at least forty five in the field before he let out a sigh. Honestly, he didn't see the point in this. It wasn't as though he needed to be more physically fit to fight, and besides he didn't want Sara to be alone right now. He had thought it would be torture to sleep by her side without making love to her but as it turned out, it had felt surprisingly peaceful. He could settle for quiet rest again today.

Then through the distraction of Sara on his mind, Kellerman identified the sensation of being watched, and he turned around and immediately found the source. He spotted Michael glaring at him from the other end of the field. He would have loved to taunt the young man and he did enjoy seeing Sara pissed at him, but he wouldn't want it to hurt her.

He only allowed himself a grin that he hoped said: _I've just spent the night in your ex-girlfriend's bed_.

"Just don't pay attention to him, Mike." Lincoln told his brother.

"I don't like the look on his face."

"The man is an asshole."

"A confident asshole."

"So, what are you going to do? He's Sara's hero right now, you do anything against him and you'll look like the bad guy."

Michael met his brother's eyes, angry at the situation and not at him. "The man _tortured_ her. He did everything that he saved her from yesterday, how is he the hero?"

Lincoln let out a sigh. "You're a smart guy, Michael, I know you've heard of the Stockholm syndrome."

Michael sighed too. "Just hold me back from snatching that grin straight off his face."

From the other end of the training field, Kellerman's smile slightly enlarged. He wasn't sure what the brothers were talking about but one thing was sure: he was involved.

…

"This might sting a bit." Willow warned.

Both she and Sara were sitting in the attic, and it felt strange to the young woman to be up here again, when it was where she had been abducted a few days ago. Warmth spread through Sara's shoulder under the touch of the young witch, and she tried to hold on to what she knew to be rational – math, science and everything she had learned in medical school, so that she wouldn't lose her sanity over the fact that she was literally being fixed by magic.

"Will it look like it used to?" Sara wondered without actual hope, almost only with professional curiosity.

"One day, it will almost look new."

Sara chuckled slightly. "You've ever considered becoming a doctor?"

The young witch smiled back. "Well, if you're talking about the war, I'll be needed on the field so actual doctors like you will be of help. Besides, what I'm doing doesn't have an immediate effect – it just makes it so you heal better in the long term, and quicker. There." She removed her palm.

Sara tried to think of something decent to say and ultimately came up with. "Thank you."

When she walked back to her bedroom downstairs, she gasped loudly at the sight of Kellerman stretched out on her bed. The bastard did look sexy when he was smug.

"What are you doing here?" Sara scolded. "What if Michael had walked in?"

"He wouldn't have, he's in the field. I was just there myself, but then I got the irresistible urge to see you."

She decided he needed to stop grinning because he looked _way_ too charming with that smirk, but then she remembered that she was mad at him.

"What?" He asked when he noticed. "Is it the shower incident? Well, we should call it the almost incident."

"Shut up. It really wasn't your smartest move. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't, mostly."

"Is there ever a moment when you're not thinking about sleeping with me?"

"Hum. Well, maybe if you didn't look so gorgeous…" He said, and watched her roll her eyes but smile despite herself. She sat down next to him after locking the door and allowed herself to relax in his arms.

After all, they had a full day to kill.

…

Kellerman decided that making out had become his second favorite activity. He knew that Sara wasn't ready for sex, and for some reason it made touching and kissing her even hotter. It made him allowed to tease her earlobe and do all sorts of indecent things, without there actually being boundaries because he would stop himself – he wouldn't attempt or even suggest doing something she wasn't ready to do.

"We're getting better at this." Sara observed at some point, in between breathless sighs.

"I know, right? It seems ridiculous that we've wasted time not practicing."

She gave him a hungry kiss for a reply, and grinded her hips against his without thinking before she could remind herself to stop. Kellerman pulled away from her and their lips parted in a wet erotic pop. He arched a brow and remarked. "Who's the tease now?"

He was actually a bit breathless himself and his jeans were getting to feel uncomfortably tight, he was horny as hell and yet he didn't manage to shake that smirk off his lips.

But then knocks were pounded on the door, and it did the job just fine.

"For fuck's sake." He let out. "Don't you ever get to copulate in peace?"

The shocked look on her face made him smile again a bit. Then she shook her head as if to clear her head, and waved at the closet with her hand.

"No." Kellerman decided. "I'm sorry, honey. I made the vow never to step inside that closet again."

She ignored him and pushed him in, then went to open the door. Her coming down felt like a bucket of water when she saw Michael. "Hey." She greeted hesitantly.

"Hi. I just wanted to see how you were doing, you're not busy?"

"No." But deciding that it was safest that he didn't come inside, she suggested. "Do you want to walk?"

Everyone was at the field practicing, and they went down to the living room, entirely deserted. "So." Michael wondered softly. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, really. Willow's spells have been helping, and I'm resting a lot." Although that last part wasn't completely a lie, she blushed regardless. "How are you?"

"Good. I mean, I miss you, but I get that you need some time, and I don't want to rush you."

Sara lowered her eyes with a sigh and confessed – it was true, after all. "I miss you too."

When she met his eyes again, he was smiling. And it was that beautiful, gentle smile that had made her fall in Fox River. "I was thinking maybe we could have dinner together tonight. Your bedroom?"

She closed her eyes a moment. "Michael, you need to understand that we –" She interrupted herself. The words were hard to say, and not just because they would hurt him. Because they hurt her. Because when she had first fallen under the charm of Michael Scofield, she genuinely couldn't think that anything would come between them. "We're not a couple anymore." She finished.

"No." He agreed, sounding serious. "I understand that. You need time –"

"That's not just it."

He nodded gravely. "Well, then I'm afraid you're going to need to be clearer with me Sara, because I don't understand what's changed."

A chuckle escaped her, but it wasn't from joy. It had nothing to do with joy at all. Sara Tancredi had not been a happy women for the major part of her life, and this actually felt a bit like punishment – as though she was being punished, for her happiness.

"It's Paul." She admitted, without caring that it must have come out of the blues to her ex or that she had denied it the previous day. She wouldn't spend a second more in denial, and Kellerman was right. She did want to leave an open door. She wanted to know that although she would not go back to Michael, she could. That was not fair to either of them three.

Michael stared at her in utter silence for a moment, his eyes heavy with shock. "I'm sorry, what? I realize that I had been gone for a few days before you were taken, but we're still talking about _Kellerman_. The man that called me not ten days ago to tell me he was holding a gun to your head!"

"I'm sorry, I am." She said and meant it. "I know it might be difficult for you to realize this, but he's different now. He changed for me."

"Oh, Sara." Michael let out a sigh, so genuinely pained she had trouble registering that he was sad for _her_. "You can't be stupid enough to believe that." He said without anger.

She clenched her teeth to keep calm. "He loves me. And I love him, I'm sorry."

Michael shook his head, and for a moment it felt as though there were only the two of them left in the world. "Don't do this to us." He didn't sound pleading. "We were in love, Sara, I know you remember, don't do this to yourself."

"I still love you, Michael." She could hear the trembling in her own voice and didn't struggle that much against the tears – this was a decent reason to cry. She was leaving the man she had once loved more than anyone, and they would not grow old together. Yes. Maybe she should cry about that. And maybe, because she was in love with the man who had ruined them both, she should never stop crying at all.

"But I can't help it." She went on, and closed her eyes to blink back the tears. "I can't stop, Michael."

The young man closed his eyes too. "You're saying that while I was out there thinking you needed time to get over what had happened, you were actually up there doing him?"

"No!" She argued for some reason. "No, we never –"

"But you intend to. My god, you're actually foolish enough to sleep with him."

"I'm not foolish, Mike! I don't expect you to understand what we have, I don't expect anyone to understand –"

"Do you hear yourself talking?" He let out a chuckle, not amused at all. "God, Lincoln was talking to me about the Stockholm syndrome, and it's actually what this is. Go back to him now if that's what you want, Sara. Go ahead, sleep with him, there's no secret anymore. But you know what I think? I think you're going to realize he's a lot less in love with you after you have, because it's the only _bloody_ thing he's after."

"You're wrong."

"One day, he'll leave you!" He shouted as though it were obvious. "The man worshiped the United States President, he's not in love with you, Sara! He's in love with games!" He shook his head more calmly. "He'll take what he wants from you and then he'll get bored and leave. It's in his nature, Sara."

"Well isn't that what you did?" She shot back, and he froze. The room around them was completely silent. "Lie so I would fall for you. Take what you wanted from me, then left me to my grief?"

He didn't respond for a moment. "I'm still here though, aren't I?" They both stared intently in each other's eye. "Don't do this, Sara." He said again. "Leave him. Please. Leave him for me, and leave him for the scars on your back. Leave him because when he will leave you, he will have taken everything you had. Leave him because you'll be drained to the bone by the time he walks out."

Tears kept on flowing down her face, and she remained wordless.

Michael swallowed, and shook his head one more time. "Forget him, Sara. We were supposed to be a couple, we were supposed to work out and we still could, you know that. Just forget him. Never talk to him or look his way again, and this will be forgiven."

She didn't say a word for a full minute before it happened, and she realized out loud. "I can't."


End file.
